Laconic
by Flying-Freely
Summary: TFP- Pre-War. Soundwave was a proud Gladiator, one of the highest ranking ones... Respected by many. Even so, he never lowered his guard down for a klik, especially not in the Pits. But, his vigilance has a cost... one that strangely looks like a femme. The same femme who struggles in the rankings of Gladiatorial Pits. Soundwave/OC -Will eventually veer into TFP.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have no idea why I'm starting another Transformers fic. It's probably because of my new found obsession over Soundwave. He says one line in the entire Prime Series and I'm in love with him.**

**A lot of things I happen to see a lot is an OCC Soundwave. Some people are skilled enough to capture his certain perceptive and aura, and some aren't. **

**I don't intend to make Soundwave out of character. I will make him as in character as I can. That means I'm going to observe him a lot as I watch more TFP episodes. **

**There are a lot of things I want to cover for my story, but I'm not planning on making it long. Just something you readers can enjoy. So, this starts out as a Pre-War fic. This takes place to before the war, then slowly going into it, all the way to after TFP. I won't re-write every scene, but I will interpret my OC somehow. Also, this is Soundwave/OC, just a heads up. **

**So, here's my first attempt at writing Gladiator Soundwave.**

**I do not own Transformers Prime, or any of its characters. They all belong to Hasbro. I only own my OC.**

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_**Laconic: (of a person, speech, or style of writing) using very few words**_

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**Chapter 1**

Soundwave didn't really pay attention to new comers.

It was simple: they either perished on their first orn, or the pitiful bots made it lucky to stay mixed in the lower ranks. It was nothing Soundwave had to worry about. Being a high ranking Gladiator, the only time he ever interacted with them would be when they fought.

He was one of the highest ranking Gladiators there, Megatronus being the first. The large silver mech managed to beat him, albeit by so little. Soundwave would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bothered by that.

Though, it wasn't Soundwave's main issue. He dully remembered how Megatronus had deemed him as an equal, and of being a worthy opponent.

Those words meant nothing to him.

There weren't many mechs one could trust in the Gladiator Pits, and Soundwave wouldn't let his guard down too easily. Betrayal was something common, and more in pits. For now, both him and the silver mech would only remain acquaintances.

If Soundwave were to feel one thing towards Megatronus, it would be a small fraction of gratitude. Soundwave was online because of him, although, he was almost offline because of him too. Megatronus' actions were suspicious, and for now, it was best to keep to himself.

He always did.

It was mostly because he knew so much. Soundwave was an observant mech, keeping any information or thoughts to himself. His unique frame was one that had the ability to store more information than an average mech. Not that Soundwave had much use of it. Having space for data wasn't particularly useful when attempting to fight off other savage mechs. He was merely created with such frame, and he preferred not to alter it in any way.

That was how it was, and that was how it would be.

However, this did give him the ability to remember almost everything. Soundwave store information in case it was valuable to him. His impeccable sense of awareness was especially useful when he observed battle strategies from other mechs. It also served to catch the lowest of mechs.

Or... femmes. The memory flashed back in Soundwave's processor. It was a curious day, yes... but the least he wanted to be was interested. The scandalous events were still fresh as he recalled them.

That cycle... he was out in the stands, watching two mechs clean the arena. There was nobody there, as not many Cybertronians stayed in the after-glow of the fight. Most of them relinquished once their source of entertainment was gone. Soundwave found it pathetic.

The only reason he stayed after the fight was because his training had been complete for the cycle. He'd usually only stay in his private quarters, but he'd always had a knack for observing in secret. It was in his programming, and it wasn't particularity inauspicious for him to stay out there. Not that anyone ever saw him.

Soundwave had settled in watching the lower-faction mechs cleanup residue from the arena. Not particularly interesting... It rarely was. Most of the time, mechs spoke about buying their freedom or overthrowing the owners, nothing Soundwave really paid attention to. It was like-wise to the mechs currently cleaning.

Abruptly, the hard clanking and shuttering of floor boards were heard. It was the sound of pedes. They were loud, metal clanking against the unsturdy floor of the stands. The steps reverberated across the whole arena, capturing the attention of the mechs cleaning it. The pede-steps gradually made their way closer to the arena, each one becoming louder.

The sudden disruption was enough to impel Soundwave to get a better view. The sound of the pedes didn't stop, rather continued clanking forward until the owner of the steps were revealed.

A dark colored frame suddenly appeared in the arena, seeming to fall or from the upper stands. The Cybertronian landed on its knee joints, venting and cooling fans on high.

Even though the Cybertronian had its faceplates hidden, Soundwave could clearly tell that it was a femme. A _femme_. Femmes weren't usually seen in Kaon, and if they were, they most certainly weren't seen alone. They were usually with high Caste members, always accompanied by a high caste mech. Others were just... another version of a pleasure drones.

Though, the dark painted femme in front of him was completely alone. No one seemed to come for her as she vented on the arena grounds, her helm kept low to the ground. The mechs cleaning stopped what they were doing and stared at her, a sudden hunger in their optics.

When the femme finally raised her helm, Soundwave saw her jolt up to her pedes. He studied her physical appearance. While slightly stained, her amour shun more than the average mech's. Her optics were also green, leading Soundwave to believe that this was a high-caste bot.

The femme glanced left and right towards the mechs, quickly backing up. She visibly trembled under the leering gazes of the two mechs.

Soundwave noticed that she didn't immediately call for help.

"What's a femme doing in these Pits?" one of the mechs asked tauntingly, walking towards the femme. The femme continued to shake and back up. The posture of the mechs were that of a predator stalking its prey.

"I don't know, but it sure is lucky of us to find her _alone._" the other mech said, giving a gruff malicious chuckle. Soundwave watched intently. He didn't make any move to help the femme.

He was a strong believer that Cybertronians should be able to defend for ones self, or perish. He _especially _wasn't going to aid a femme who most likely sat comfortably in a higher caste, while he fought his way through every drop of energon. It would be the stupidity of the femme that would be the end of her. Soundwave was soon losing interest in the pitiful sight. Just as he was about to leave, he heard a cluster of metal.

He snapped his helm back and was less than surprised to see the femme with a weapon in her servos. No doubt it was from the Gladiator that had been terminated. The blue energon stained on to the broken sword proved it.

"S-stay back!" commanded the femme. The two mechs laughed at her empty threat. The quivering femme held up the broken sword, which shook in her servos. Soundwave stood in his spot, watching the events unfold. Though, his processor was already made up; he would not help the femme.

"Put down the sword before you hurt yourself, femme." the mech laughed.

The femme's fear quickly morphed into indignation. She gulped and bought it in the mechs direction. He once again laughed and made a move to grab the broken sword. The femme quickly took it away from his grasp.

"Go ahead. Strike us," the mech dared, "Here, I'll turn my helm so you can strike me right _here._"

They laughed at her, their raspy growls hitting the femme straight in the faceplates. Soundwave watched with new found interest.

The femme's startled expression slowly morphed. Her grip visibly tightened on the sword, and her pedes stepped closer. With a fierce cry, the femme brung down the sword to clash with one of the mechs legs. The mech cried out in pain as he was brought down to the arena floors. Energon stained the femme's servos and splattered over the floor. The mechs legs weren't broken, but most likely very wounded.

The other mech growled in anger as he watched his comrade in pain. He roared towards the femme knocking the sword out of her servos. With a curled fist he stuck at the femme, making her drop to the floors. He heard her slight shriek of pain as she dropped on her side.

Her armor was dented and she looked up at the mech with hatred. The mech grabbed her neck and pulled her up. Sensitive wires in her neck were pulled with great amount of tension as she hung in the first of the larger mech.

Her servos grabbed the fist that held her, attempting to break free.

"Now, now, _femme. _If you beg for forgiveness, I'll let you live long enough to know what pleasure feels like." the mech wryly snarled. The femme chocked out a simple response.

"F-frag both of you to the pits!" she hoarsely cursed. This made the mech furious, but before he could tighten his grip on her, her servos stuck out on him. Her sharp fingers made contact with him a great number of times. Soundwave was attentive enough to notice that the femme was sporting claws.

The mech yelled out, and fell to the ground next to his other fallen comrade. The femme was dropped to the floor. She landed on her knee joints and coughed. The commotion was enough to capture the attention of any nearby mech, more importantly, the ones who ran the place.

As mechs came, Soundwave was also drawn closer, curious enough to see how the events with the femme would end.

One of the main owners stepped forward, looking absolutely livid. Optics were narrowed towards the two mechs who struggled to stand. Meanwhile, the femme stood up, a mixture of anxiety and anger in her optics.

"What's going on here?!" the owner asked loudly. His voice rung with impatience and anger. The two mechs shifted under the glare of the mech above them.

"I-It was that femme! She done this!" one of the mechs stuttered. The owner only now realized the femme close to them. She was slowly inching away from the owner, and other Gladiators who stared at her lustfully. When the owner's attention was fully directed at her, the engeron stained on the her claws was the first thing he noticed.

The owner roughly grabbed onto the femme's arm, pulling her to look straight into his optics. The female yelped and fear quickly overcame her green optics.

Soundwave watched as she held the owner's gaze. No Gladiator spoke, afraid that the owner might lash out. That was never good; it always ended badly for the Gladiators when the owners weren't pleased. A certain tension ran through out the arena. The femme held herself in a way that made it look like she was trying not to shake. The owner's optics began to drift all over the femme's frame, taking in every little detail. The femme stiffened under the leering optics.

"You did this?!" the owner asked, tightening his grip on the femme's arm. The dark colored femme nervously nodded, her movements becoming frantic with a every word she didn't speak. "You come on to _my _arena and damage _my _property?!"

The femme didn't respond, rather averted her gaze elsewhere. The owner didn't seem at all satisfied with this, as he used his other servo to grab her helm and directed it towards his optics.

"Look at me." he demanded coldly. The femme's optics narrowed as a streak of audacity began to show. Though, this didn't fool the owner. He wryly chuckled. "I can sense your fear, _femme. _Your optics reek of it,"

When the owner broke optic-contact with the dark-colored femme, he turned around to face the Gladiators. His grip didn't loosen on her for a klik. She stumbled as he bought her to face the other mechs along with himself.

"What do you think we should do with her, mechs?" the owner asked, "We have a whole variety of possibilities." The arena reverberated with sly laughter. This caused the femme to shiver.

Soundwave was the only one who stood silent, as always. He knew that the mechs in this low caste craved a femme's touch. Most Gladiators didn't have enough currency to go to the 'special' place where femmes personally pleasured them. If femmes ever willingly came to seek out a mech from the Gladiator pits, it was rare that one came to a lesser-known Gladiator; most of them preferred the more high-ranking ones... Soundwave had a fair deal of femmes that came to him, though that didn't mean he always accepted.

Soundwave had too much dignity to say that he was as lust-hungry as the mechs around him, for the femme that was currently held by the owner. He wasn't desperate nor unintelligent as to completely lose himself desire.

"Who knows, maybe this femme could be useful for me as well," the owner lowly laughed, the resonant sound full of malice. With a new burst of strength, the femme violently jolted her arm away from the owner's grip.

She looked at the mechs with bewilderment. The femme proceeded to back up, only to be stopped by Gladiators coming from behind. She gasped and turned to the owner, her optics shining with anxiety and anger. She fisted her servos.

"I-I won't do it!" exclaimed the femme. Her movements become more alert as the mechs pushed her into a circle. The owner gave a cruel laugh that rung in her audios. Soundwave watched the pathetic attempts of the femme.

"Willingly or not; you'll eventually obey, femme. Not only do you _owe me,_ but you are in my territory!" he exclaimed, his tone carrying the harshness of reality. The femme began to shake again, but the glare on her faceplates stayed.

"I'd rather fight Gladiators and _die_ than become an interface slave!" the femme proclaimed. She looked at her energon stained claws, and gave a forceful flick. A splash of blue energon landed on the ground, near the owner's pede. The femme glared directly at him, honesty apparent in her words. The sound of metal shaking seemed to betray the femme's dominant attitude.

It was clear to Soundwave that she was absolutely afraid. Similarly like the mechs, he stared at her, though unlike the others, the optics behind his mask only focused on her faceplates, rather than her adult frame.

The owner smirked, giving the femme a knowing stare. The femme's confidence immediately died down once she saw this. She shrunk back, running into the chassis of other mechs. The owner's optics brightened as a chuckle escaped his mouth.

"Interesting suggestion you made there," the owner dangerously chuckled, "Maybe you can be of better use." the mech dug his servos into her arm again. The femme struggled, but quickly stopped when she saw his glare. The femme was unable to produce any words as she choked on them.

"You are property of these Gladiator Pits, femme. Your training begins _tomorrow_. Your first fight is in an orn." stated the owner, "And unless she _fails, _nobot is to harm her... outside of the arena and training, that is.

"You will work your way up the Gladiatorial ranks like the others, and if you are to fail... my mechs here will gladly take what is left of you." the owner stated, his optics forever boring into the femme's processor.

Soundwave stared for a few kliks longer before making a move to leave. However, the owner quickly glanced at Soundwave, seeing that he was one of the nearest mechs in his sight.

"Soundwave, take the femme to the medic and to be inscribed in the battles," the owner commanded, "RocketShield, dispose of the two useless cleaners. The rest of you, back to your stations!"

The mechs grumbled and murmured among themselves, all talking about the new femme that had supposedly joined them.

Soundwave looked at her behind his visor. He stood cold with indifference. The femme noticed all of the other mechs leave but him. She seemed to understand that he was Soundwave.

Without a word, Soundwave began walking, glancing slightly to see if the femme was following. She tentatively followed him, aware of the gazes she received. She gently rubbed her claws together as she refused to let them hang at her sides. The skittish femme stumbled on her pedes, before beginning to follow him. She took a deep vent and _attempted _to compose herself. Her trembling did not go unheard.

Soundwave found it pathetically humorous in her attempts to appear indifferent. The femme kept her helm raised, trying to ignore any stare. It was also clear that she was trying to avoid looking directly at him. Not once did he feel her gaze on him. She constantly twitched and jumped at any slight movement; her optics kept darting at the surroundings, looking at everything but him. The femme also kept her distance.

She feared him.

The owner entrusted him to take the femme to the medic, because any other low ranking Gladiator would surely try something with the femme. The owner entrusted him... but he didn't feel 'honored' at all. He despised the owner. This was a burden to him, knowing that his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He should have left when he had the chance.

Though, Soundwave tried not to think too much of it. He was simply leading the femme. After that, she was no longer going to be his problem. The femme Gladiator would have her own issues to burden with. A femme Gladiator... how desperate was the owner for currency? As he stopped in front of the medic's quarters, he felt metal clank on his back.

Soundwave reflexively turned around and watched as the femme fell to the floor. She let out a slight groan and hesitantly raised her green optics.

Her optics finally made contact with Soundwave's visor. Her optics widened as the tall and slender mech stared down at her.

Soundwave didn't make any move to help her, rather stared down to see what she would do.

He relished in the sight. The dark-colored femme stood completely at his mercy. Her green optics stared fearfully up at him. She sat on her aft, her slender legs moving together and stiffening. Her chassis rose and fell as she vented. She was completely at his mercy. It was completely up to him if he ended her life. All it would take was one slice.

Soundwave slightly turned his helm towards the medic's room. The femme scrambled up, a blue blush staining her faceplates. She stubbornly looked away.

"S-sorry," she muttered. Soundwave didn't reply. He kept his helm turned towards the medics room. The femme followed as he walked in. An old medic stood there. Soundwave's visor was turned towards the ebony medic.

"Soundwave...? I wasn't expecting to repair you." the medic asked. Soundwave shook his helm and pointed at the femme. The femme seemed to take the hint and hesitantly moved closer to the medic. The medic's faceplates soon relaxed as he came into the realization. "Ah yes, one of the owners just contacted me about the femme. Though, he didn't mention you were bringing her." the medic replied.

Soundwave stood silent.

This seemed fine for the medic as he motioned for the femme to come closer. "C'mon! I don't bite, they'll be plenty of that for the arenas." the medic chuckled as his optics shamelessly scanned over the femme's frame. The femme seemed to have stiffened visibly. She slowly and cautiously stepped towards the metal berth. The medic patted it, and the femme soon climbed onto it, her claws gripping the edges.

The medic scanned the femme as she struggled to appear unaffected. He seemed to be a bit too close for the femme's liking.

Again, she refused to look at Soundwave, but he knew better. Every other klik, her optics would inch close enough to catch a glimpse of him. When Soundwave's helm showed signs of moving, the femme quickly averted her optics elsewhere.

"So, how's a femme like you get caught in the pits?" the medic asked casually. The wonderful silence was ruined by the gossiping medic. The femme's optics hesitantly turned to him as she took a deep vent. She took a moment before answering. The medic raised an optic-ridge, encouraging her to answer.

"I was running." she stated.

"From who?" the medic asked, becoming intrigued at the information he was receiving. No doubt the gossip would spread soon. Soundwave carefully listened for the femme's response.

"From my carrier and sire." the femme replied. The medic began wiping the energon from her claws to check for any wounds on her servos. The medic raised an optic-ridge.

"Oh really? What happened? They didn't let you paint your frame?" the medic chuckled. The femme seemed to take offense as her optics narrowed.

"I hated my caste." she said. The femme slightly winced as her servos were being repaired. Then the medic went towards her neck-cables, and began assembling loose parts.

"Oh? You hated your caste? That's a new one. Prey tell, why? What's so bad with living with high-grade energon, and plenty of currency to spend? Too good for you?" the medic asked.

The medic obviously assumed that the femme was from a higher caste. Soundwave could see why. Many high caste members had blue, or sometimes green optics. As he suspected before, the femme's armor seemed a bit too shiny.

She didn't respond, rather glanced at Soundwave before looking down at her pedes. The medic didn't push any further as he fixed her major dents. Soundwave simply stared at her from behind his visor. He found that he didn't really care much about the femme, but at the very least... he was slightly intrigued.

"Refuel with whatever engergon they give to you. There was nothing major, but I suggest you recharge well before training." the medic prescribed. The femme nodded. Soundwave looked straight at her, and began to walk.

"Soundwave!" the medic called. Soundwave halted and slightly turned his helm towards the mech. The medic smirked and tossed a him a red-colored cylinder. Soundwave caught it with ease and stared at the liquid in his servos. "Thought you'd like to do the honors." the medic stated.

Soundwave seemed to ignore the medic's comment as he proceeded throughout the door. The femme stumbled on her pedes before rushing to follow him. She gave the medic a few last glances, only to be met with a leering stare. They walked in silence. The femme's optics fixed themselves on Soundwave's back. He could easily feel her gaze.

"S-soundwave..?" the femme asked. Soundwave didn't respond as they continued walking. He remained impassive, not even tilting his helm to humor the femme.

She had said his name... and something about it he didn't like. As far as she knew, he could still extinguish her spark in the next klik. "Where a-are we going?" she asked.

The tall mech didn't reply. He merely continued to walk, not showing any signs that he had heard her. The femme seemed to be angered by this, as he heard her huff.

As soon as Soundwave sensed a metal object come towards him, he turned around and used his sharp servos to grasp whatever the disturbance was. He realized that he was gripping the femmes wrist.

By the way her optics greatly widened, the femme seemed astonished. Her mouth was agape and it seemed that she couldn't find anything to say. Fear adorned her once more. Soundwave realized that she was attempting to make some kind of contact with him... and he would have none of it.

If he wasn't sparring, or in an arena, nobody would touch Soundwave. It was a simple rule every mech there learned to follow. Yet here he was, glaring at the femme under his visor for breaking that rule.

The femme seemed to feel it. Her spark thumped violently in her chassis, and Soundwave was able to hear it from his position. After a few more moments, when it seemed like his grip was getting tighter, he let go of her wrist to continued walking. The femme gulped and quickly ran behind him, catching up. She used her servo to rub her wrist.

The newcomer soon realized that talking or trying to make contact with Soundwave was too dangerous. She knew this, and Soundwave knew this. And he liked it that way. Her fear could be used to his advantage.

Again, he could feel her optics rest on him. A deep silence filled the passageways. The only noise heard was the soft clanking of their pede-steps.

Then they reached the inscribing areas. Soundwave was quick to start typing. He turned his helm in the femme's direction.

He stared at her and back at the inscribers. She stood there, wide optics staring at him with a mix of fear and confusion. He realized that the femme wasn't understanding to come closer.

Soundwave turned his frame towards the femme. She flinched back, but he didn't stop. He continued to walk towards her, his frame beginning to loom over her tense one. His helm was turned at her, and a long finger pointed towards the inscribers. The femme's green optics widened in realization. She tore her gaze away from him.

The femme slipped from in front of Soundwave, to the area behind him. Soundwave watched as she typed, her claws skillfully moving, the sound of clicks filling Soundwave's audios. Her sharp digits danced across the inscriber, similarly like his. Although, he was sure that he had more grace.

He slowly walked over, his visor tilting, ever so slightly, to watch what she typed.

There wasn't much to type. It would be simple for her. She was a new comer, probably with little experience in combat. The only thing Soundwave did not expect was her designation.

Her designation was Darkstrike. What an interesting designation for a femme from such origins. He assumed it had something to do with her dark paint.

As the femme finished typing, Soundwave quietly approached her, the red cylinder in his servos glowing. Just as the femme was turning around, he had roughly bought down the sharp point of the cylinder, digging it into her waist.

The femme hissed out in pain. Soundwave stood emotionless at the femme's display. He wasn't bothered. He knew this was going to be done sooner or later, so he might as well have get it done now. He thought he was being generous towards the sorry femme. If she had anticipated his actions, he was sure that she would have felt more pain.

The red-cylinder quickly emptied as the red liquid was injected in her. Once he saw that it was fully empty, Soundwave removed the cylinder, disregarding the femme's groan. The cylinder dropped to the floor, making a slight clank.

Soundwave observed the femme's closed optics. They were clenched shut. When they slowly opened, they blinked a couple times. He looked straight at them. They were no longer the green hue as they had been before, rather a crimson red, just like the other Gladiators.

Gladiators' optics were always red. This was to show other castes that they were fighters. Their bright color of optics distinguished the Gladiators from other castes. Now that the femme was inscribed as a competitor, anybot that came to the pits, was able to bet on her. Not that they would.

"W-what was that..?!" the femme asked, looking at her servos and arms, testing if they were functional. Soundwave didn't reply. He had his visor turned towards her, a sign that he was definitely watching her.

He looked into her optics. He was able to read the distressed femme perfectly. Her emotions were laid out in from of him like an open data-pad. He could see her hidden rage, her fear, her slight interest... and _there _it was. The tiny fraction of innocence still laid in the femme's optics. Innocence sickened him.

It irked Soundwave immensely to see that tiny part of innocence she had. The femme didn't deserve to remain online. Once again, it made him want to wrap a servo around her neck and offline her himself. Innocence served to be terminated.

He realized that his visor had gotten significantly closer to the femme's faceplates, in a very threatening manner. His visor had gotten so close, that Darkstrike was able to see her reflection on it. She gasped.

"My optics...! They're... they're _red!_" she exclaimed. Soundwave made no comment. He simply backed up and began walking. He glanced at her and saw her posture slump, and her optics rest on the ground. She muttered soft things to herself while her servos rubbed her arms in a comforting manner. Soundwave turned away, not wanting to watch the pitiful sight. While the femme had yet to shed tears, Soundwave was in no mood, (or even cared for that matter) what the femme weeped about.

After that, he had left the femme to herself in her chambers. The femme had wordlessly entered her new room, but Soundwave was able to catch the slight gesture of her optics narrowing directly at him. Why was she studying at him? This femme didn't even have the right to _glance _at him, much less glare.

The next time he encountered her, he would make sure to quickly rectify that. He would teach the femme that she could not do as she pleased. She was in the Gladiator pits now, playing by the rules of a lower caste.

Now in the present, Soundwave had scolded himself for letting her consume his thoughts. He would leave her into her own pit and let her learn. _Darkstrike_... would be a waste of time; she was simply a femme not worth any klik of his.

That's how it would be. New-comers usually didn't matter to him. Many of them failed in their first fight, and he was sure that the same would happen with the femme. If she managed to last through training _and_ her first fight, then Soundwave would have to think twice before underestimating her. Although, to him, it was unwise to think the femme would be capable of much.

So, he would watch. And he would observe. Soundwave would see how long she could survive.

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**Chapter 1! This won't be many chapters if I continue to write at this pace. So yeah, I tried my best to make Soundwave in character. I tried, is the key word. I might have made him to... eh. But, that's my interpretation of him. You know... a mech of few words. I don't believe Soundwave was rude, no, I just believe that he's an intelligent enough mech to know what is useful to him and what is not. I mean, you don't expect him to just magically fall for her at first sight. **

**No. **

**As for the optic changing, just a quick idea. I wanted the femme to come from a higher caste, yet still eventually have red optics for later on. Just something I want for future references. **

**That is what I have so far, but I can't wait to write some more! Please give me your thoughts in a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to the people who were kind enough to leave me a review! You were all very wonderful! You have no idea how relieved I was at having some encouragement! All of your reviews made me extremely happy. The comments were very gradable and I couldn't help but smile like an idiot. :D ****Seriously! I even got a person from the allegiance of the Autobots to read this! My life is complete!**

**Sorry Autobots, Ima Decepticon. xD**

**Since I'm not making my story as long, I will make time progress while still keeping a steady pace. I hope you all don't mind.**

**Also, I realized that I made a mistake last chapter. Megatronus' optics were blue before the war really started. So, instead, I'm going with the fact that Megatronus was literally born into being a Gladiator, which means that if he was one of the first in that specific arena. So, the owners didn't bother changing his optics to red because they only began doing it when Megatronus was already older. That's my headcanon.**

**Just in case there is some confusion~**

**Frame- Body**

**Servos- Hands**

**Pede/s- Foot/Feet**

**Audios- Ears**

**~Time~**

**Joor- 13 hours**

**Cycle- Day**

**Klik- Second**

**Orn- 13 days**

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**Clairvoyant- _exceptionally insightful, able to foresee the future_**

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**Chapter 2**

Darkstrike woke up early the next cycle. It wasn't like she could get much recharge. How could she? It would be waking up to the first cycle of her new life... it would be petrifying. She was fully taking in her new position and she wasn't sure she embraced it yet.

Darkstrike was a femme Gladiator. A. Femme. Gladiator. How was she supposed to use that to her advantage? She would suffer, she knew. Yet, there wasn't much Darkstrike could do about it. The power of her freedom had been stolen from her; no longer in her grasp. _So, this is what it feels like to be in a lower caste. _Darkstrike knew that probably all Cybertronians of this caste were treated that way.

She had always been used to having some power, even if it was only from herself. Now, even her own individual rights had been taken away and she was treated like property. Darkstrike sympathized the mechs in these Pits. Even she knew that it was unjust, wrongful, they had to withstand it every single cycle, just to remain online! Granted, Darkstrike _was_ in their pedes now.

She shook her helm. There was no good in sympathizing them when she could do nothing about it. Darkstrike's processor wandered off to other things.

Her newly-colored optics looked up at the ceiling of her chambers. Her red optics stared blankly. _Red_ _optics_. Darkstrike didn't mind her new color of optics. It erased the memories of the ridiculous caste she was previously in. She was growing weary of her green ones anyway. Darkstrike despised the color of green and how the color oh-so-proudly represented her caste.

Green symbolized growth, harmony, freshness, fertility, growth, hope, and occasionally peace. Green, as opposed to red, meant safety. Though Darkstrike _knew_ (and preferred to think) that green was associated with ambition, greed, and jealousy. It was also associated with cowardice, and discord. All which she thought most suited her previous caste. To Darkstrike, they were all a hypocritical, disgusting group of Cybertronians that dared called themselves peace makers.

Now, her optics were red to symbolize her current low-caste. Red meant energy, war, danger, strength, power, and determination. The color was meant to be affiliated with vigor, willpower, rage, anger, leadership, courage, longing, malice, and wrath. The color of the optics were honest and true to the caste it represented; _Gladiators_.

It would soon be her turn. She couldn't hide from the reality that she was going to have to fight with the nonexistent strength she had. Darkstrike may not have had brute strength like the lest of the mechs, but she had their brute rage. As much as it _pained _her to admit it, Darkstrike knew she had let her anger guide her towards violence. (Which eventually led to the disowning of her creators.) There were the couple of times when she would be involved in a skirmish or even kliks of malice with others. Any potential she had for fighting was not completely unused. Darkstrike's problem was that she hadn't honed such skills in an official battle. Her lack of precision, skill, and strategy would lead her lower than the Pits... literally.

She couldn't rely only on pure instinct anymore. Darkstrike was smart enough to know that. She had to pressure herself in training, because if she failed her first battle, her next stop would be in the little interface box. Not that being one of the only femme Gladiator wasn't already enough pressure.

Oh, no. She wasn't scared.

Darkstrike was _terrified_.

She stood up from her berth. Darkstrike couldn't deny that she was still tired, though, she preferred to get up on her own terms rather than having a mech escort her out. She slowly unlocked her door and was met with the corridors outside her room. They were empty. She began to hear gruff voices echo through the halls.

Darkstrike assumed that the mechs were up. She didn't know the procedures there, and nobot bothered to explain them to her.

What she needed, was energon to fill her tank. Darkstrike hesitated. She wasn't sure where to get it, and going towards the mechs didn't exactly seem promising.

After a few klicks, she finally moved forward. Darkstrike decided that her method would be trial and error. She would experiment and see just how far she could stretch her luck... that is.. if she had any.

Judging by the loud and exuberant voices of the mechs, she inferred that, that might be a place with energon stockings. The medic that spoke with her yesterday suggested that she consume whatever energon they gave her. His statement implied that they were probably going to give her some portion of energon, probably a small one.

Darkstrike nervously made her way through the end of the corridors. Her pedes made silent clanks, nobody had heard her yet. The sudden bright light at the new opening made itself apparent.

There was a door. Darkstrike entered and was greeted by the groups of mechs that stood there. All of them paid her no attention. That was, until one of them did. Once her optics made contact with another pair of red ones, the mech began to get the attention of his acquaintances. Little by little, more pairs of optics turned to look at her. Most of them were red, but there were one or two pairs that were blue.

She felt a shiver pass through her back-struts. Darkstrike continued to walk through the small passageway. She nervously glanced at all malevolent hunger that the other optics held. They all audaciously roamed around her frame. Darkstrike attempted to remain indifferent... just like Soundwave had.

She could really learn from the silent mech. Her optics scanned the crowd of mechs, secretly searching for only one. When her optics were able to barely _glance _at Soundwave, her spark nearly leaped out of her chassis. Confused by the sudden reaction, Darkstrike turned away.

Soundwave was a very intimidating mech. Darkstrike was hoping that she would never, ever have to take him on. She was sure that she would easily get beaten. Soundwave was much more well armored than she was. His upper body promised a lot of success, as well as his long arms. He didn't even need to say anything for him to cause fear to overcome her spark.

He didn't damage her yesterday, but it seemed that his movements projected a threatening tone to him. Yet, Darkstrike was scared to say that Soundwave was the only mech she new so far. Though, that didn't mean anything good. Darkstrike was sure that when he got the chance, Soundwave would... _ahem_, she preferred not to dwell on that subject. Not that Darkstrike was particularly interested in making friends there. Her primary focus was to survive.

Darkstrike pointed her optics towards a large counter. She caught a glance at a mech recieving his cube. Darkstrike travled closer, ignoring the other Gladiator's calls.

The mech behind the counter didn't seem particularly interested in her faceplates, and kept his optics lower. Darkstrike wasn't about to say anything or remark about it. What could she be able to say? She was a femme that was frightened and obviously intimidated by the larger mechs. She was an averagely tall femme, but that wasn't really an advantage. There were mechs that were taller and shorter than her, but in the end, most would beat her.

It was also obvious that her useless threats would have no effect on the mechs. Darkstrike was sure that they would merely laugh at her while continuing to stare. A femme was never taken seriously in her previous caste, much less in this one.

"Designation?" the mech asked. His abrupt words were enough to startle Darkstrike out of her thoughts. Her red optics widened at him. The mech returned the stare with open amusement and contempt. The mech chuckled at her. "Do you _know_ your designation?"

Her eyes narrowed with indignation.

"Darkstrike." she stated. The mech chuckled yet again. He looked down at the data-pad. Darkstrike knew what he was doing. Her wide knowledge of technology was able to make her realize the system. It wasn't an entirely complex system. Each mech got a specific amount surplus of energon. The other names on there most-likely got more energon, by the higher numbers she saw. The mech checked her off the list.

Darkstrike noticed how the mech was carelessly and probably unintentionally revealed the data pad. Her optics narrowed up at him. The mech hardly regarded her. He must have thought that she was just as oblivious. _Frag him._

Letting the trivial fact slide, Darkstrike picked up the energon cube in her servos. Darkstrike examined the low contents but didn't say anything. At this point, she was grateful to be getting _something. _Darkstrike wordlessly dismissed the mech at the counter. It wasn't as if he would pay attention to her intelligence rather than her frame if she stayed.

Then came picking a seat. Darkstrike realized that there were no actual empty seats in the large room. Some mechs noticed her constant glancing over the seats they sat on. They gave leering grins.

"If you don't have anywhere to sit, you can sit my lap!" one suggested loudly. Many Gladiators began to suggest likewise. They laughed and stared at the femme for her response. Darkstrike chose not to say anything.

She avoided their dirty stares and went to a secluded corner off to the side. She ignored their jokes and lewd comments. Darkstrike made sure to keep her distance with them; she was sure that they would reach out to touch her.

The dark-armored femme sat on the dirty ground of the room. She pushed her legs to herself and looked at her energon cube. She dimmed her audios to avoid listening to the laughter. Her optics lifelessly stared at her energon cube. Darkstrike slowly sipped it, savoring every drop. She took a great intake, not even glancing up to see the half-surprised expressions from the mechs who knew of her previous upper-caste status. She was a high-caste femme, choosing to sit on the dirty ground rather than to take chances with them...

Darkstrike continued to sit there and waited until most stares left her. Her helm rose to see a familiar mech standing up. Her optics watched attentively as he moved towards the door. Soundwave expertly moved passed all the mechs. Unlike the other Gladiators, he disregarded her completely.

Never once did Darkstrike see his visor turned her way. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or not. It should have alleviated her that he didn't care... shouldn't it? Darkstrike stubbornly tore her optics away from him.

_My prime goal is to **survive**._

She sat there, holding her energon cube. Darkstrike was _planning_ on sitting in her less-than-comfortable spot... until she heard the thump of pedesteps. Her optics quickly averted upwards. She clenched her cube. Her claws twitched as she warily narrowed her optics. Staring down at her were a group of mechs. Darkstrike didn't say anything, and tried to stop herself from quivering.

Her systems ran cold, but her faceplates _almost_ showed nothing.

"How rude of us not to offer the femme a seat."

"We're not being gentlemechs, are we, now?" one slyly chuckled. The three of them laughed at their mock politeness. They were insulting her. They thought themselves superior than her. Just like her previous caste.

"Femme, if you stick with us, and do us a few favors, we can get you through this... terrible experience." one lewdly suggested. She realized to what they were implying. Her optics widened.

Darkstrike curled her claws into a fist. She clenched her denta shut. Her red optics rose to meet theirs. She fought her first insinct to pounce on one of them and unleash her anger. Though, her rage would most definitely not be to her advantage. She wasn't sure how skilled the mechs before her were, and it was highly possible that they could easily pin her while she was in her enraged mode.

Darkstrike stood up slowly, her height passing only two of the mechs. One still stood taller than her. She fumed. Her red optics glared at them before returning to their previous dull color. Darkstrike realized that they were baiting her. They were waiting for the moment when she would crumble and fall.

She stared at them dimly before beginning to walk away.

The mechs seemed thoroughly displeased with the response, for the largest one gripped her wrist. She was forcefully pulled into their circle. Her optics widened with bewilderment and fear.

"Running away shows cowardice. Are you a coward, femme?!" the mech asked, digging in his fingers deeper into her wrist. The mechs around them continued their loud talking, but Darkstrike knew that their optics were on her. They were all watching her. A sudden thought crept up through her processor.

Was Soundwave watching her?

Not a nano-klik later, there was a beep. A loud one. The mechs in the room began to stand up and head for the door. The mech snarled at her before deeply smirking.

"You're not going to last a cycle here, femme." he stated. He roughly pushed her away, making her stumble back. Darkstrike glared up at him while rubbing her wrist. The mech ignored her and his group followed him out.

She assumed that their training was about to begin. It was time to see if the mech's assumptions would be proved right.

* * *

Darkstrike continually punched the obstacles in front of her. She realized that her stamina and strategies needed much improvement. After countless joors of punching and constantly running and keeping light on her pedes, Darkstrike was beginning to become tired. Her servos were dented, and her claws were beginning to take the impact as well.

She jumped over the spiked metal, but her landing was sloppy and mistimed as she rolled on her side. The spiked metal returned, only to hit her roughly. Being caught off-guard, Darkstrike fell on her chassis, the sound of metal collapsing against metal resounding. She groaned as she felt energon threatening to leak out of her.

She remained on the ground for a bit, liking the way how comfortable it currently was. She needed a break. But, it seemed that the other mechs thought differently.

A familiar medium-ranking mech came her way unnoticed. He imprudently kicked her side, hurting it in the process. Darkstrike flipped to her back, and watched the the familiar mech from earlier, now above her.

"Get up, femme! Your training hasn't finished yet." the mech commanded. Darkstrike attempted to get up, only for her limbs to wobble, causing her to fall back to the floors. She let out a hoarse curse.

"Figures. A femme... a Gladiator? How could Explo even _think _about making you Gladiator? Femmes are only good for one thing, and one thing only; interfacing." the mech snarled. Giving the femme another forceful kick, he left her to herself.

She gave a few coughs and gripped the floor beneath her. Darkstrike seethed. She was furious. That arrogant mech had just shown his dominance on her. She felt utterly useless. Darkstrike didn't want to let a self-proclaimed mech believe to be her superior.

Her claws twitched, and something in her systems heated up. The dark claws uncontrollably shook, but Darkstrike ignored the sensation.

She moved her arms to support her weight. They wobbled, but Darkstrike forced them to stay put. Firmly planting a pede on the ground, she slowly stood up, clutching her side. Darkstrike moved to grab a broken piece of metal on the floor. Looking at the mech who had stupidly turned his back to her, she threw it in his direction, never taking her optics off the target.

The mech immediately turned around, looking enraged. His optics widened with slight disbelief and anger when he realized that it was her doing. Without saying a word, or even returning the arrogant expression he once wore, the femme turned around to resume her training.

Just as she turned towards her obstacles, she saw him, Soundwave. His helm was turned her way which suggested that he was watching the scene. Darkstrike stiffened to a near painful degree.

He had been _watching_.

Her spark felt like it was trying to lurch out of her chest. Oddly, it didn't feel like fear. She forced herself to turn away and tried to ignore the stares she received. Darkstrike prepared for the worst as the medium-ranking mech came her way.

* * *

Darkstrike was aching. She was absolutely exhausted. She had scratches all over her paint, there were dents on her frame, energon leaked through, her protoform ached, and her legs were just about to give out. They had commanded her, pushed her, worn her out, thrown punches at her, kicked her, leered at her, threatened her, yelled at her, and even humiliated her.

Yet, she couldn't have felt more at home.

It was a good pain she felt. One she was not accustomed to, but that didn't mean that Darkstrike didn't welcome it. There was no hypocrisy. No lies. Only pure, harsh, painful reality.

The medium-ranking mech, which was designated as RocketShield, had truly punished her for her acts of disrespect towards a higher ranking Gladiator. Apparently, he was allowed to "train" her for the cycle.

_Frag him._

Darkstrike laid on her berth. Her limbs were sprawled out as she refused to move. She chuckled at the ceiling. The smile didn't leave her lips. She had an absolutely horrible cycle, but at least there were no shadows.

Sure, it was unpredictable. But, it was better than it being useless and predictable. Darkstrike would no longer worry about how things would occur when it would truly become hard. She was now living in hard times, and it would surely only get harder.

Her red optics finally represented something she was. Something she was proud to be. And, for the first time, her spark had been at peace.

* * *

That femme lasted through he first cycle. _Barely_.

Soundwave observed her well. He noticed a couple things. He noticed how restrained she was. A real Gladiator would have lashed out when given the chance. It displeased him and lowered his expectations. Not that he had much for the femme.

He saw the group of mechs toy with her. Soundwave thought that the femme would try a weak attempt on them, or perhaps cower back like a mewling sparkling. Instead, the femme had wanted to leave the mechs to themselves.

That would have been wise; however, considering her reputation, she was nothing more than an experiment. Until she won her first fight, she was as insignificant as the ground they walked on.

Darkstrike only succeeded in angering them. For a moment, he had seen the clear rage in the femme's optics. It was a burning fire, waiting to be fully ignited. Much to his disappointment, she had extinguished this fire, and let the mechs intimidate her.

Nonetheless, it was her first learning experience, an awakening even.

Soundwave was less dissatisfied when he had seen her train. The femme had determination. She didn't seem afraid to lash out on the obstacles, but his suspicions were confirmed; she had no previous fighting experience.

She was a fool who had yet to learn. However, this didn't surprise him much.

Soundwave was hardly ever surprised.

There was also that moment when he had let the femme know that he was watching. Her red optics looked directly at his visor. The femme had immediately stiffened, which pleased him. His first intention hadn't been to frighten her, but it seemed that not many actions were required to achieve this. This left Soundwave satisfied.

Soundwave wasn't always watching her. The femme had just managed to get in sights every time. Where ever he was, she didn't take long to arrive. It was purely coincidental, and it was beginning to become an inconvenience for him. Similar to when he saw her limping to her chambers after training was over.

She had managed to stay one piece. Darkstrike had survived her first cycle. _Not_ _impressive_. Now, she had to survive the rest of them.

Soundwave shook his helm. The fragging femme was the only interesting piece of entertainment there, ironic coming from a Gladiator who entertained an audience himself. That wasn't of importance though.

That femme, the newcomer, was a whole datapad waiting to be unraveled.

He was cautious, aware of everything. Many were skeptical about this femme, including himself. However, if Soundwave prided himself in anything, it would be knowing more than others. So he'd keep an optic on her, _for now_.

* * *

As expected, the orn went by in a flash.

It went by too fast, in Darkstrike's opinion. Granted, an orn wasn't long on Cybertron.

She practiced long and hard. Her paint had gotten less shiner, ridding her of any evidence of her being in any higher caste. She wore minor dents, and her aches had eventually gone away. Though, the worst had yet to come. Darkstrike expected herself to be most affected by the battle itself than the mere training.

The mechs didn't lessen their taunting or humiliation. Darkstrike had only gotten more tolerant of it. (Lucky for her, the hadn't grabbed her again.) Her anger was taken out at the dummies and obstacles. That wasn't to say that she didn't care about the insults. She wanted so badly to dig her claws into their frames to get back at their infuriating taunting. Each cycle came with a new taunt, all of them featuring the same suggestions.

The only upside was that Darkstrike discovered that if she avoided RocketShield, she could train on her own. She hoped that she would always only train on her own. Much to Darkstrike's relief, she didn't need to spar with any of the mechs, as that was mostly optional. Darkstrike knew it would aid her greatly to actually spar, and get a feel of what it would be like, but she had denied herself this.

But, Darkstrike knew that if she failed... she might as well have been programmed to be a pleasure drone.

It was time to see if her training had paid off. Darkstrike knew that she needed more to actually be 'efficient,' but one orn wasn't exactly a long time. Nor was it good time for her to get an upgrade. Darkstrike didn't have durable armor to battle in. She had no weapons to defend herself with either. Apparently, that wasn't in the rules of her first fight.

All she had to do was fight the mech until either of them was unable to. This would be a combat fighting, no weapons allowed.

If she won, she got her upgrade. She would get more appropriate armor for the battles. The armor Darkstrike currently had was thinner than she would have liked it to be for battle. The thickest armor was positioned at her wings. She wasn't a seeker, no, she was only a flyer. Seekers constantly craved flight and held their wings up high in pride. Her wings were always lowered, not to mention a dark color, so they were almost never noticed. Though, the mechs mostly looked at her frame, so Darkstrike wouldn't be surprised if they found out she was a flier after a vorn.

Darkstrike could only hope she would last that long.

Another thing she would also receive, was an actual weapon to fight and train with. That would certainly be helpful. She noticed that a lot of the mechs there didn't carry around their weapons, or didn't have any. Darkstrike realized that they preferred brute strength for their way of training. Unfortunately, all she heard was that the only weapon of choice would be a sword. Guns weren't allowed in the fights.

Darkstrike unconsciously wondered if Soundwave would be watching. She shook her helm. Of course he wouldn't. Darkstrike -apparently- was hardly worth his time. His constant ignoring and silence only confirmed this.

It seemed that the high-ranking Gladiator had better things to do. They had only interacted one other time since her first cycle there... and that was only for a few kliks.

Soundwave was authoritative, he had much more power than her. From what she had heard, he was a Gladiator legend. Interaction with him was almost nonexistent. So, why was Darkstrike so interested in him? Perhaps it was because their second interaction had been an _interesting_ one.

The memory was still vivid in her processor.

Darkstrike had not wanted to deal with the dirty comments from RocketShield that cycle. So instead, she wandered down the corridors of the surprisingly large place. There were different halls, probably for different ranking mechs. Darkstrike had inferred this by the cleanliness of other corridors compared to hers, or as clean as Gladiator Pits could get.

Not considering if it was harmful only sightseeing the halls, Darkstrike continued on her path. She wasn't sure what halls she was entering, and instead let her instinct guide her. It wasn't "instinct"... but more of her spark. Her spark demanded her that she enter the hall. Darkstrike ignored it, that was, until the tugging in her chassis had increased. The sharp pain was minor, but unfamiliar. Seeking to get rid of it, she simply obeyed.

Darkstrike took turns, going left and right, until she finally ended up in one of the cleanest corridors there. She stood there and her red optics marveled at it. There were less doors, most-likely because not many mechs made it this far into the ranks.

Darkstrike could only dream she could make it that far.

Rudely, interrupting her thoughts, was the spark that sharply urged her to continue. She glared down at the tugging and deeply sighed. Darkstrike continued down the halls, her pedes producing soft thuds. Her curiosity and spark led her to one of the doors. It was a door that looked like any other, and she wondered why she chose to stop at that specific one.

Darkstrike stood in front of the door, staring intently. A few kliks went by.

Much to her horror, the door hissed open, revealing a tall mech. Her optics first made contact with the upper chassis, as her height was probably shorter than him. Her optics looked at his very long armored arms and hesitantly veered up towards the faceplates of him.

Not to her surprise, she only saw a visor. Darkstrike had somehow already suspected this. Her optics widened and she took a step back.

"Soundwave..!" she gasped. The mech took a step forward, making Darkstrike back up into the wall. The door behind him hissed shut. His helm tilted in a questioning, yet threatening way.

"Corridors: Prohibited." he spoke. His voice sent her spark to a wild pulsing. She used her claws to cover it. Darkstrike did not miss the threatening edge his voice held, while still having a tone of its own. The rough voice sounded like it fit right in, yet Darkstrike couldn't help but notice how different it was.

"Apologies. I was lost." she lied. Usually, lying wasn't as difficult to her, but doing it in front of Soundwave seemed almost... risky. His optics weren't revealed for her to feel his boring and judging gaze, though somehow, she _felt _it. Darkstrike's attitude faltered and her optics drifted towards the floor as Soundwave's visor didn't leave her direction.

Suddenly, his long arm was slammed up against her. Darkstrike was pushed against the wall. A small growl left her mouth as she felt the familiar feeling of being restrained. Soundwave didn't miss it.

Darkstrike began struggling and only stopped when Soundwave's helm inched closer to hers. His sharp fingers pressed against her, threatening to puncture her protoform through her armor. If Darkstrike moved, his claw-like fingers were sure to cause damage. Darkstrike flinched back, pressing up against the wall further. She resisted the urge to shiver or shake in fear at their small proximity. Darkstrike stiffened in his grasp against the wall. She tilted her helm to the side as his visor was only inches from her.

"Femme: Lying. Reason: Ignorant curiosity," Soundwave uttered in her audios. Before Darkstrike could fully process his captivating voice through her audios, Soundwave was already gone.

Since then, Darkstrike decided that it was good that Soundwave ignored her. It was what she had to do to survive.

Snapping her processor out of her thoughts, was an all-too-familiar beep. Darkstrike clenched her energon. Her battle was about to begin.

* * *

Darkstrike was in the large arena... surrounded by many, _many _mechs and femmes. They all shouted, encouraging the violence. A lot of them laughed and jumped in their seats, cheering for the energon that would surely stain the grounds. Darkstrike felt disgusted. They all looked over her, only wanting a source of entertainment. They would eventually toss her away like an empty energon cube once she would not be able to provide entertainment or pleasure. They would all let her rust once she had fallen.

But Darkstrike would not fall.

Her competitor stood on the other side of the large arena. A speaker was inbetween them, announcing exciting things to the audience. The Cybertronians gulped down their high-grade energon, some letting the liquid spill down their mouths. Darkstrike grimaced and scowled deeply.

Once a large crowd of Cybertronians were gathered, the speaker yelled out in the microphone.

_"Femmes and mechs of Kaon! You have all come here to see a fight that will surely be remembered! For the first time in our arena, we have a femme fighting!" _the mech spoke. The crowd cheered louder. _"Now, it's time to see whether our femme will survive her first battle..."_

The crowd went wild. Mechs were out of their seats, calling at her, trying to get her attention. If Darkstrike thought she disliked the Gladiators' stares, she was sure that she hated being seen by the many Cybertronians before her.

_"In this corner, we have last orn's new comer, Plasmo!"_ the crowd cheered at the mech as he arrogantly threw his arms up, relishing in the cheers. _"And, as his femme competitor... we have Darkstrike!"_

She heard rogue calls and and audacious complains towards her. Darkstrike dead-panned and almost felt impelled to tune down her audios.

_"Gladiators, get ready... and BEGIN!" _The speaker was quick to get out of the way and leave towards the stands.

Darkstrike's attention was fully averted when she heard a fierce battle cry. The mech ran towards her, his upper body prepared to crash into her. Darkstrike saw that this mech was her height. Perhaps that could be helpful.

Instead of moving out of the way like she probably should have done, Darkstrike firmly planted her pedes on the ground, and she leaned forward. The mech came at her, his brute force slamming and impacting into her thinner armor.

Though it painfully hurt, Darkstrike was able to take the impact. She clenched her denta, and grabbed the mechs larger arms. She used her force to throw him off her, but it only seemed to make him stumble back.

Quickly composing herself, Darkstrike ignored the tingling sensation in her claws. Clenching her servo in a fist, she ran and swung at the mech. The mech was also quick to compose himself, and he caught her arm with ease. Darkstrike swung her other fist at him, hitting him squarely in the faceplates. The mech stumbled back from the force, and Darkstrike took the chance to take her arm back.

Seeing that he was momentarily trying to fix himself. Darkstrike ran up to him, prepared to use a kick him down. She realized her mistake of hitting his most guarded area, as Plasmo grabbed her leg and swung her down. Darkstrike fell hard on the arena. She grunted at the pain sent up her back-struts.

Plasmo lifted her up by her arm and gave her an uppercut at her abdomen. Darkstrike was sent back by the impact. Energon rose up from her tanks as she landed on her back. She coughed up energon, but her slight distraction prevented her from seeing the mech launch at her and kick her back.

Darkstrike rolled many times. The force of it made her fuzzy, momentarily making her optic-sight appear blurry.

Plasmo came back and grabbed her neck, pulling her up in the process. Darkstrike struggled in his grasp. Again, she was in the position. The fragging mech was possibly even smaller then her, and he still had the nerve to grab her by the neck.

Darkstrike extended her leg and kicked his thigh. She was quick on her pedes when she was dropped on the ground, less-than-gracefully catching herself. Plasmo seemed to actually trip back from her kick. Darkstrike's optics widened. She wasn't aware how much force her kicks actually held, and she never thought to use them before.

She launched forward and struck at his exposed waist, making him fall back. Darkstrike was too slow to decide her next movement. Plasmo used his legs to trip her down. Darkstrike landed on the ground with a hard thud. She groaned. Plasmo kicked her once more. Energon leaked through her plating. He looked down at her, wiping the energon from his mouthplates.

"Stay down, femme." he uttered. The cheers around her became dull in her audios. The blurry images hardly reached her optics. Recharge seemed like a gift from Primus, at this point. Darkstrike weakly lifted her helm and saw it; his arrogant smirk.

She snapped.

Her optics darkened. Her inner systems seethed as her claws seemed out of control. The taunting came back to her... the humiliation filled her processors. Her rage returned once more, fueling her actions. The energon running through her pulsed harder, as well as her spark. She roared and jumped on her pedes. The mech seemed bewildered at her sudden appearance, only to realize too late as her pede slammed into his side.

Darkstrike's fist rose and immediately struck at his faceplates. Her other pede rose, and it easily impacted on his chassis. Her claws couldn't bear it anymore, and instinct overtook her. Darkstrike's claws were soon dug into his armor, puncturing through his protoform. A wild heat seemed to transfer from her frame, and engulfed her claws, attaching itself onto the mech.

Plasmo released a raw scream. He clenched his optics shut as he was suddenly bought down to his knees. The seething heat seemed to leave her systems completely as the mech before her shook. Darkstrike took her claws back as her optics widened in surprise. Plasmo fell on his front and landed on the ground with a loud thud.

Energon stained the ground.

Something inside of Darkstrike was severely frightened. She watched as the mech opened his optics to look at her. She looked down at the blue energon on her claws. The fright soon disappeared as she realized that there was no wave of regret to come. Plasmo was only a competitor. He wasn't offline. (Though, he certainly had no problem doing so for her.) This was what she had to do to _survive_, and the sooner she realize that, the sooner Darkstrike would be closer to victory.

Why should she feel the remorse for him? It was clear that he would feel none for her. Darkstrike's optics dimmed to their previous red color. She flicked her claws, and a splat of energon landed on the ground. She slowly walked over to him, noticing the arena going completely silent. Shocked expressions overcame the audience as their optics witnessed the femme take down the mech. Gasps came from some of the femmes as they saw the audacious actions from the newly titled Gladiator femme.

Darkstrike placed her pede on his helm, and looked down at him.

_"I won't," _she uttered.

The crowd went wild.

* * *

**A/N: _*Edit: Neon, (a reader) made me realize that the previous name for the mech that fought Darkstrike was canon name, so I changed it to Plasmo :)_**

**Whoa, that fight scene was difficult to write. It was interesting to write it, and don't you worry. More interaction will be seen from Soundwave and Darkstrike. Patience is a virtue..!**

**I would also like to explain some things. The thing that happened with Darkstrike's claws will be explained probably next chapter. This was no luck she had, it was an ability... you'll find out!**

**I would also like to explain why she had claws. ****I figured, since _most_ fliers became Decepticons, they would have claws, since a lot of Decepticons seemed to have them. Also, since this is before the war had actually begun, I inferred that all Cybertronians probably had different structures; some Cybertronians had claws, some didn't.**

**Also, since Darkstrike's Alt mode is an aerial one, I figured that because of the lean structure, she would have claws or sharp fingers i.e. Starscream, Soundwave, Megatron.**

**Any feedback?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here comes the part where I have to make up more things. Hooray for improvising, right? I wasn't sure how to proceed, but I will. Again, thank you all so much! You all are a great group of people. As long as I get a few reads, its all good. I'm satisfied that you all get to enjoy what I want to share. :D**

**Also... Later on, I might make time progress just a little more. Don't worry, nothing you all can't keep up with.**

**As a last note, I recommend that you all watch Cybertrons past. This was shown in a TFP episode, and explains what happened between Orion Pax and Megatronus. Though, I will hardly be referencing to that, this story being more of a Soundwave-centric story.**

* * *

**Condescending- _possessing an attitude of superiority, patronizing_**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Darkstrike stood unresponsive at the cheering Cybertronians. She looked up at them and felt sickened by their sight. It repulsed her. How hypocritical, a previous high caste femme, disgusted by the same type of caste. Darkstrike might have injured a mech, but at least she wasn't encouraging it.

The speaker was quick to go by her side. He grabbed her arm and raised it in the air. Darkstrike tuned out her audios at the vivacious yells and cheering.

_"Our champion today, is Darkstrike!"_ the speaker yelled. Darkstrike took her arm back, and winced at the dents she now held. She held her side and watched as two mechs retrieved Plasmo from the ground. Darkstrike looked down at him before turning her helm away.

There was no need for her presence any longer. She was done entertaining them for the cycle. There was no use for Darkstrike, nor did she want to willingly stay.

She coldly turned her back towards the people. Darkstrike walked towards the -now- open door. She tried not to limp in front of the audience. It was already understood that weakness was not permitted in the Gladiatorial Pits. Darkstrike remained unfazed and only uttered a few winces as she reached the door. As soon as her gaze landed there, volts of sudden pain shot through her. Her joints stiffened, and she froze in her place. Darkstrike's optics widened in fear.

Soundwave stood there.

* * *

As unpredictable Darkstrike's fight was, Soundwave learned to expect multiple outcomes.

He taught himself to expect everything despite the situation. The femme was no exception. Soundwave watched the fight, as did many other Gladiators. Before the fight had begun, many of those mechs had been arguing on who would get to keep the femme.

RocketShield had been particularly obnoxious about what he would do once the femme was his. The other middle-ranking mechs objected that the femme would be theirs, contrary to what RocketShield said. Though, this certainly didn't stop RocketShield's arrogance.

Nonetheless, this only went noticed by him. All of the four owners stood present in the fight, and seemed more than satisfied at their immense profit for the fight. They didn't pay much attention to the mechs, rather more in their currency.

Soundwave knew that he should have left rather than waste his time watching the battle he expected would have a predictable ending. But, like the other mechs, he had paid to see the fight. The owners made no exceptions. If the Gladiators were interested in watching the current battle, they would have to pay too. Luckily, he didn't have to sit next to the other "higher class" Cybertronians.

Soundwave sat in the same section the other Gladiators were in. He kept his visor focused on the femme who stood there, gazinag across the crowd of Cybertronians. He saw the femme visibly grimace and glare at all of them. It was ironic coming from the former high-caste femme.

His thoughts were interrupted as he sensed a presence next to him. Soundwave turned his helm and saw the mighty Megatronus bending down to sit beside him. Soundwave's stare only lasted a bit longer before it was directed towards the femme again. He didn't object or move away from the larger Gladiator that sat beside him. It was true; the silver mech was allowed to sit where ever he would like, though Soundwave made sure to keep his guard up.

"Interesting fight, wouldn't you say?" Megatronus asked. Soundwave didn't reply, but only nodded once. Megatronus seemed to understand his silence and didn't seem to question it.

"Who are you betting on?" Megatronus asked. Soundwave took a long gaze at Darkstrike and Plasmo. The fight would surely begin in a few kliks, and the femme had yet to win or lose her first battle. Megatronus seemed to follow his gaze, and stood quiet long enough for the mech to respond. The second highest-ranking mech stood silent for a few moments.

Nothing surprised Soundwave. His inferences never led him wrong, and he was sure they never would. To predict the outcome of the battle wouldn't be as simple. Soundwave had observed the femme's training, and he easily discovered her weaknesses and strategies. The femme could easily lose and the chances of her winning seemed slim.

Soundwave raised his long arm and pointed his sharp finger at Darkstrike. Megatronus looked taken aback as he immediately turned to Soundwave in a questioning manner.

"_The femme_?!" Megatronus asked loudly. Soundwave didn't hesitate when he nodded. He knew very well that his choice was very controversial, as well as foolish. But, he didn't speak up to change his decision.

Megatronus' loud voice seemed to have captured the attention of the medium-ranking mechs. They all turned their helms in their direction. RocketShield in particular, stared at both mechs. He secretly traveled closer to them, keeping in mind of their high Gladiator status. Soundwave wasn't ignorant, he was completely aware of the mech that was slowly coming closer to them.

"You are betting on the femme?" Megatronus asked again, as if wanting to confirm what he had heard. Soundwave nodded again. RocketShield made his way closer.

"What is it I hear? Soundwave is betting?" RocketShield asked, a surprised smirk rising on his features. He didn't immediately respond, much to the other mech's annoyance. It was when the owners started staring, that Soundwave took action.

He slowly stood up and looked down at the smaller mech. He refused to be looked down at, especially by that mech in particular. RocketShield's optics widened slightly as he warily took a step back.

Soundwave nodded in response. This was enough warning to make the other mech keep his distance.

"How about a fair wager? Between all of us Gladiators?" RocketShield asked. Megatronus seemed to perk up. Soundwave didn't respond, but neither did he back away. RocketShield took that as a sign to continue.

"Alright then. 50 Energon coins to whoever's Cybertronian wins," he began, "We bet that Plasmo will win, right mechs?" the mechs behind RocketShield chuckled and murmured loudly in agreement.

"And you bet that the femme will win?" the smaller mech asked coyly. Soundwave stood still. He usually didn't bet, especially not with the arrogant slagger in his presence, but if he simply backed off now, he would be seen as a coward. It would be seen as weakness.

Soundwave was no weakling, nor a coward. Those mechs best learn that or else he would gladly demonstrate. Those ignorant mechs already feared him and Soundwave preferred to keep it that way.

He nodded in response to the other mech's question.

"So, it's only you betting on the femme?" RocketShield asked.

"No. I bet for the femme, as well," a voice said. Soundwave turned his helm in the direction of the sound, and saw Megatronus standing up and traveling beside him. Both high-ranking Gladiators seemed to easily loom threateningly over the middle-ranking mech. RocketShield's optics widened, and he turned to the mechs behind him. They all seemed to exchange silent words.

RocketShield hesitantly turned back to them.

"So, it's a deal then. 50 Energon coins from each mech." he said. He extended his servo out and Soundwave looked down at it. The tall mech grabbed a hold of it, before squeezing too hard, making RocketShield flinch back. Immediately, Soundwave let go in disgust.

Soundwave didn't stay any longer, and he turned around to take his seat again. Megatronus followed him back, wordlessly. Both mechs sat beside each other.

"Bet: Unnecessary," Soundwave spoke. His words made Megatronus fully regard him with wide blue optics. They quickly returned to their normal size once he processed the statement. Megatronus shrugged.

"I do not doubt your decision." Megatronus said, "Let us hope that the femme does succeed."

Soundwave didn't say anything more, though he suspected that Megatronus had only wagered with him to gain his favor. The silver mech wanted his trust; however, Soundwave was not easily lured into a sense of security. The other Gladiator's intention's weren't honest and Soundwave would be attentive.

Once the speaker had finished his announcing, it meant battle was imminent.

And, so it began.

Soundwave had not taken his optics away from the fight for a klik.

His optics took in every movement, every drop of energon spilled, every kick, every punch. Soundwave was satisfied at the entertainment of the fight. Darkstrike seemed to be making actual attempts, though he was disappointed when the femme had been easily bought down to the ground, then carelessly kicked.

The femme lacked the experience.

She had been grabbed by her neck, and wounded as energon leaked through her armor. Soundwave didn't feel pity. He only watched the feeble femme as she struggled to stand. He seemed to narrow his optics at her from behind his visor. Soundwave silently commanded the femme to stand up and fight for herself. He mentally dared her to prove him wrong.

Plasmo raised his arms up, claiming victory. RocketShield looked at Soundwave, but Soundwave refused to do the same.

Plasmo looked down at Darkstrike and seemed to utter a few words.

That was when Soundwave saw it for a second time. He saw the rage in the femme's optics. Even from the distance, his optics were clearly able to see it. He saw the red in her optics enhance to a vivid crimson. The red orbs narrowed in a fierce glare.

Darkstrike stood up with a strong jump. Plasmo didn't seem to see it coming. Her fierce battle cry wasn't enough to warn him as Darkstrike's pede slammed into his frame. Soundwave looked at the femme's long slender legs. They seemed to have held most of her force and strength.

Metal slammed on metal once she struck at his faceplates. No doubt that there would be dents. The painful sound echoed throughout the arena, as the cheering died down. Many optics watched attentively.

There was a last sound of snapping metal from the mech's chassis. Before Plamso could fall to the ground, Darkstrike grabbed on to him. Soundwave had to lean forward to see clearer. The femme's claws dug deep through the mechs armor. Darkstrike looked straight at the other mech as he let out a resonant scream that most mechs seemed to flinch to.

Darkstrike was looking at fear straight in the optics. Her first taste of victory would be a bitter one on her glossa.

Soundwave remained unfazed, watching carefully. The mech soon fell down, faceplates to the ground. Small sparks of electricity seemed to emit from the revealed sides of Plasmo's protoform. The femme had done much more than just pierced her claws into him. She had done something, but Soundwave couldn't be sure of what. He knew he had seen something similar to this.

Soundwave inspected her energon-stained claws. He noticed the sharp glow it held, and he suddenly remembered what the ability was.

His thoughts were caught off as he heard the femme approach the fallen mech. The femme placed her pede over the mech's helm. This was a demostrastion of dominance. He leaned back and watched with mild amusement. Soundwave watched wryly as all of the mechs and femmes stared with surprised expressions. He turned his helm to look at RocketShield. Soundwave saw that him and the other Gladiators were absolutely stunned.

Soundwave inwardly smirked. He was enjoying how foolish they must have felt at this point. His helm turned back to the femme. She remarked words Soundwave was unable to hear, but before he could try and decode, the audience of Cybetronians disrupted the silence, screaming out.

Plasmo hardly moved, which meant that he was unable to fight.

Darkstrike had won.

Somehow, Soundwave knew that he had not underestimated the femme. Tactically, he had expected every outcome, including this.

However, the femme had managed to exceeded the very low expectations he had for her. This was good. Darkstrike had proved herself worthy of being able to defend her insignificant life. She didn't offline. The foolish femme had _barely_ made it, but she held potential. So long as she knew how to harness and use such potential, Darkstrike had a possibility to survive there. Not that Soundwave expected anymore success from her. She was still a newcomer, and they didn't last long.

"Soundwave!" it was the voice of one of the owners. He stood up and turned his helm towards him. "It seems that the femme did serve to be useful. Ensure that today's victor receives an upgrade,"

Soundwave nodded at the owner's order. He walked towards the door, not before passing the other Gladiators. Soundwave stopped in front of RocketShield. The mech obviously was in disbelief at the events. He had thought that he would get to take the femme. It was so pathetic, it was almost comical. The other mech seemed to stiffen.

"What?!" RocketShield blurted, attempting to appear unafraid.

"Payment is expected today." the taller mech ordered. His helm turned in the other high-ranking Gladiator's direction. Megatronus gave him a nod, and Soundwave returned idly it. Before he left, he looked back to see RocketShield's faceplates. Soundwave fought to keep his face emotionless and devoid of a smirk.

* * *

Darkstrike turned her helm, her optics scanning for any other possible passageways, other than the one in front of her. Much to her dismay, there weren't. She continued to slowly approached the door. Even in her fatigue, Darkstrike was visually wary of the tall mech. She slowly stepped closer, and Soundwave didn't seem to budge. He stood as still as a statue. Darkstrike would have mistaken him for one if he hadn't have had such a threatening presence.

She looked directly at his visor before averting her optics downward. When Darkstrike had reached him, she noticed that he was blocking the door. She clutched her side tighter. Soundwave's helm tilted directly at her small movement. Darkstrike's optics widened.

She straightened herself out, and her posture was fixed so she appeared to be taller. Her faceplates shifted so it looked like she was unaffected by the pain. Soundwave's arm shot out too quick for Darkstrike to react.

His fingers wrapped around her arm, tightening when she tried to pull away. Darkstrike's helm snapped up at him in questioning bewilderment. Soundwave didn't say anything, and began to pull her.

"W-what are you doing?!" Darkstrike asked frantically. Soundwave didn't respond as he continued to walk forward while dragging the femme behind him. Darkstrike stumbled before realizing that most of her weight was taken off as Soundwave held her arm. She wasn't sure if he was doing it intentionally, but she was grateful.

Her spark beat increased unintentionally as Darkstrike began to fully feel Soundwave's sharp fingers wrapped around her arm. Soundwave turned his helm to look at her, and Darkstrike turned away so she wouldn't meet his gaze. He pulled her harder until she was right next to him. Darkstrike's widened optics landed directly on his armored frame. She looked away with humiliation as her spark seemed to enjoy their close proximity.

She didn't say a thing, and she hoped that Soundwave wouldn't be able to notice.

"Where are we going?" Darkstrike asked. The taller mech regarded her with a side glance, but didn't speak further. Darkstrike sighed in defeat. She was simply too tired for further struggle. It didn't matter if he was bringing her to the Medic's quarters to be permanently offlined; at this point Darkstrike didn't care.

Soundwave seemed to lead her past all of the corridors, to a new door. He typed in a code, causing it to open and pointed inside.

"Oil bath. One breem." Soundwave said. To Darkstrike, it sounded like an order. She slowly entered, glancing at Soundwave. He didn't say more. As Darkstrike entered, the door behind her hissed shut.

After a klik of standing there in silence, she realized what what he meant; Darkstrike only had a breem to rid herself of the filth before Soundwave would open the door. Darkstrike didn't hesitate to turn the device on. The liquid ran down her frame, soothing her stiff posture. She melted into the bath. The energon and filth washed down to the floors. The dents didn't fade away, but at least Darkstrike didn't any energon residue. Though, it would probably be more efficient if she had taken her armor off.

That was not happening. In the short amount of time she had, Darkstrike would most likely get caught in her bare proto-form. That was something she did not want. Best that she enjoyed any short luxury she would receive. The light sound of the pattering liquid running down her frame, echoed throughout the silent room. Just as Darkstrike began humming and enjoying the sudden warmth, the liquid stopped running. Her optics opened.

She reached up towards where the tube was. Her optics narrowed. Darkstrike was certainly in no mood for her bath to be cut off. Her claws gripped it. She shook it multiple times, but much to her anger, nothing came out. She growled in anger. Darkstrike had just finished a fight with Plasmo, and she was fragging tired and wounded. Either she made the pipe continue to work, or she was fragged.

Grinding her denta together, her fist slammed into the tube. To her surprise... it broke in half. Darkstrike deadpanned. She glared at the piece in her servos. She viciously swiped her claws at the rest of the tube, successfully breaking it off completely. Darkstrike stomped on the remaining pieces, and kicked them away. And in the end... no more liquid came out.

Disrupting her, was the sound of the door hissing open.

Darkstrike's optics widened, and her anger soon died down once she realized that Soundwave was staring at her. Her spark seem to laugh at the situation, as it almost felt like it bounced in her chassis. She realized her current predicament.

Darkstrike looked down at the broken pieces and the floor, and at her claws. Soundwave's helm snapped at similar places. He pointed at the broken pieces on the floor. She flinched back and sighed in frustration. The femme picked up the pieces and threw them aside, making it less noticeable.

Soundwave's visor was turned to her direction, and it stood there for a few kliks. Darkstrike shuffled and clenched her claws nervously. It was frightening how his gaze managed to pierce her more than if his visor was off.

He began to turn away and walk. Darkstrike took this as a sign to follow. She stumbled and limped behind Soundwave. The taller mech didn't even turn around to check if she was following.

Darkstrike sighed again. She was beginning to like his grip on her arm better.

Immediately after she thought this, Soundwave's servo flew towards her arm. He pulled her forward. Darkstrike threw him a bewildered expression. Soundwave disregarded her completely. Her optics were still wide and she could help but feel strange.

Darkstrike shook her helm. It was purely coincidental, after all, she wasn't that hard to read.

Again, Darkstrike let all of her weight fall on Soundwave's hold. He didn't seem to mind or even notice for that matter. She continued to limp and look away. Darkstrike gave another weary sigh. She really needed recharge, but for some reason, she didn't want Soundwave to discover the fact.

The femme already knew that any weakness shown to the mechs was huge vulnerability, but there was something else that made her alert when he was near. She looked down at his fingers that gripped on her arm. The long digits were able to encircle her forearm armor completely. Darkstrike had not realized that she had been staring and was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts when he had let go.

She looked up and realized that they were in another room. It was large, and bright. It was basically empty, with a few restrains in the corner. Soundwave pointed at the metal berth. Darkstrike looked at it and frantically turned back to him. Her optics widened and she began venting deeply. She backed up, and stood in a defensive position.

He wanted her on the metal berth, and that was something that unnerved her.

Her claws clenched and she looked at Soundwave with a determined expression. Darkstrike knew she would lose in a fight with Soundwave. She knew he was a high ranking mech, and would easily terminate her... but she'd fight with any strength she had left, which was little to none.

Soundwave seemed to stare at her blankly. He didn't seem at all alarmed at her sudden posture... and it was starting to frighten Darkstrike. He seemed a bit too calm.

Soundwave approached her slowly, menacingly. His presence seemed to bring something threatening towards her... His size seemed to grow with every step he took. Darkstrike lost her confidence and flinched back into the wall.

She was soon corned onto to while Soundwave was only a small distance in front of her. The Gladiator shot out his servo and pressed it on her chassis, pushing her further into the wall. Darkstrike struggled but froze back when Soundwave's helm neared her. Darkstrike was automatically reminded of the previous cycle when he did the same thing.

Although, it didn't scare her any less. What was worse, was that her spark seemed to pound in delight at Soundwave, while her common sense was completely terrified.

Soundwave poked her abdomen. It could have easily punctured her, but it didn't.

Instead, his sharp finger remained on her frame, and slowly trailed up. The sharp finger running up her, caused a shiver down Darkstrike's backstruts. It slowly scraped up her torso, chassis, and then stayed to her neck. Darkstrike bit her glossa at the strange pleasant sensation. Only one other mech had made her feel like this, but the fragging wrecker was long gone at this point.

Currently, it was Soundwave's actions that was making her fear and excitement increase.

His claw-like finger didn't leave her neck cables. Darkstrike's helm arched up, her optics widening in fear.

* * *

Soundwave watched the terrified femme in front of him. Something about the position gave him a greater sense of superiority. His optics ran through her frame, this time looking at it at a much more different perspective. He wasn't going to deny the fine specimen in front of him, nor would he admit any trace of attraction towards her.

He did find it mildly amusing to see Darkstrike's panic. He took notice of the surprise on her faceplates. If that didn't give it away, her thoughts certainly did. Soundwave was especially able to hear her thoughts when they were as loud as hers. Her mind was so open, much more than anyone he had ever met. If he truly wanted to, his own mind could silently creep into hers and invade a place she thought was private.

He looked down at her and removed his sharp finger from her neck.

Soundwave was most likely not done with her. He decided that he would continue to play around with the femme. She was a peculiar thing, bold enough protect her own spark from becoming extinguished.

She was weak, soft, and unhardened. Darkstrike was unaccustomed to the unadulterated fury, and in her case, it seemed the only thing she had that had prevented her demise. That was what the Gladiatorial Pits were about: to fight and keep whatever of a pathetic life you had.

"Upgrade." Soundwave blurted out. Darkstrike immediately snapped out of her slight trans. Her optics cleared. She blinked in confusion, her fear slowly dissipating.

"What..?" she blurted. He backed up from her frame, and Soundwave immediately heard her small thoughts of protest.

The femme was infatuated with him.

Soundwave had a leash on his arrogance and stoic emotions; he felt nothing at the fact. He almost never interacted with her, yet his curt actions had a great affect on her. He viewed this as more of an advantage.

"Upgrade." Soundwave repeated. His finger pointed at the metal berth. He saw the bright blue energon rise to her faceplates.

"B-but-! Y-you-! I..." Darkstrike was clearly baffled at his actions. Soundwave didn't reply. He traveled away from her, into the the smaller room next door. The owners had given him an order after all.

The closet next door contained many items, and many pieces of armor. He knew that some were probably from desist mechs, but at the very least, they were cleaned. He collected them from the ground, grabbing the most important parts that connected to the frame.

Before Soundwave left, he turned his helm towards an old data pad that slipped from the corner. One he had stored long ago. The worn out pad seemed almost invisible to the naked optic, but he had remembered why he had stored the thing. He no longer required the knowledge because he had learned everything he had needed to.

Extending his long arm, he snatched the data-pad, while carrying large parts of the armor in the other. He carried them back to the angry femme that sat on the berth. He placed them on the surface, expertly -assiduously- placing a data pad on there. Soundwave was very aware of his actions.

He turned around to collect the rest of the parts. Just before he left, he turned his helm in her direction.

"Begin placing onto protoform, or Soundwave will do it." he stated. The femme gave a startled reaction and a bright blue blush. Her red optics widened largely, and he could easily see the bewilderment behind them. Darkstrike merely nodded, before hurriedly rushing to place the parts. He didn't need to look back; his audios heard it all.

He entered the smaller room next door to grab the remaining pieces of the standard Gladiator armor; the were the leg pieces that attached to her knee and down. Soundwave froze when he heard Darkstrike pause. There was a faint sound of metal scraping, followed by more silence. He took this as his cue. Soundwave turned his helm towards the door, and was quick to walk towards the previous room he was in.

The femme stumbled, and loudly shuffled before turning her attention towards him. Soundwave didn't reply, but he had his suspicions. He placed the rest of the pieces onto the hard berth.

Darkstrike grabbed the pieces, and looked at her frame to figure out where the pieces belonged. Just as she was about to remove them, she turned towards Soundwave. She seemed uncomfortable with his presence. She noticed that he didn't seem to be moving.

Darkstrike sighed.

She didn't seem to care of his audience as she removed the pieces from her legs, exposing the proto-form to him. Her long sleek legs immediately caught his attention. Soundwave didn't hide his staring as he revised them, up and down. Having a clearer view, it was apparent that they _did_ have a lot of force to them. There was no hiding it. Soundwave knew that he pleased with what he saw.

Darkstrike blushed a light blue, before hastily placing on the armor. When she was finished with the process, she looked down at herself. The armor loosely fit the femme. It gave her a bulky appearance, hiding her natural curves. The armor was from a mech, hence why it didn't fit the slimmer femme. Darkstrike seemed visibly displeased with this.

Soundwave neared her, and silently extended a tendril from his frame. The long tendril slithered her way, making itself unnoticed. Then, Soundwave plunged it and roughly connected it to the femme's back. Immediately, the tendril began glowing, transferring into the femme.

Darkstrike gave out a scream filled with utter pain, one that would probably make lesser mechs flinch back. Soundwave remained unfazed, as always. Even as Darkstrike fell to her knees, he didn't utter a word. He wanted to see how much more she could take; For how long would she be able to sustain her life. When would she drop to imminent defeat?

The tendril clutched to her back a bit longer, as the process continued for a few more kliks. He knew it was painful for the femme, but taking her by surprise seemed easier than restraining her.

Soundwave detached the long tendril from her. Darkstrike had her helm lowered, and her audible venting suggested that she was still recuperating.

The armor that was previously attached to her, had morphed and attached itself tighter onto her frame. It was an easy process that Soundwave didn't use for just any upgrade. But, if the femme was to advance in the Pits, she might as well have had susceptible armor for it.

She stood up, helm still lowered. That was when she noticed the change.

Darkstrike looked down at her frame. The dull blue armor now accented her slim figure. Darkstrike lifted up her arm to test it out. She looked at the sharp armor that adorned her forearms. Darkstrike would easily be able to dig it into anyone else's armor, along with the sharp pads on her shoulders. Soundwave was quick to notice that her upper thighs, and waist were the only vulnerability, along with her wings.

Darkstrike's large surprised red optics averted towards Soundwave. They quickly reverted back to their normal size as she composed herself. Much to her surprise, he was quick to return her gaze.

Soundwave and her watched each other for a few kliks. Thick tension filled the room. Narrowed red optics refused to leave his visor. Soundwave didn't like this. He gave her a few kliks to back down.

But, Darkstrike didn't. His posture was lifted in a threatening manner. Darkstrike looked defiantly up at him. He interpreted it as a challenge. Silent defiance was one that he would not tolerate. If the femme believed that she had the same power as when she was in a higher caste, she was sorely mistaken. In the Pits, she was a nobody, like the rest of them.

Soundwave traveled her way, making his steps louder. Darkstrike recoiled but didn't seem to avert her curious gaze.

Once Soundwave was only half a step away from her, his sharp fingers grabbed her chin, and yanked it so she looked directly up at him.

Darkstrike's optics widened.

"Do not challenge Soundwave again. Prove your worth to walk the same grounds," Soundwave uttered. He felt the shiver pass through her, onto his servo. He tightened his hold, scratching underneath her chin.

"Leave." he commanded. With quick skittish movements, Darkstrike left the room. She squirmed and struggled with the different armor she now had on. His optics trailed after her figure, as she left the room. Soundwave turned his helm at the berth, towards where her discarded armor lied.

Just as he expected, the datapad was gone.

* * *

**Soundwave's personality was not easy to write, but I think I'm getting better at it. I'm sorry if it seems a bit rushed on his new interest. I really tried to tune him in, and since these are different circumstances than in the war, I thought, "what the heck? I'll give it a shot."**

**Megatronus made an appearance too! I'm not going to get into the full relationship of him and Soundwave, but I will give slight intel for future references.**

**I will include the events as it happened, and a hard task for a writer is being able to interpret the events and staying true to the story, while also giving another perspective. I plan to (partially) show the story side of the Decepticons.**

**I mean, sure we heard the story from the Autobots' point of view, but I would have liked to hear it from the other side also. They would have pretty interesting intel!**

**Orion, I like and dislike you at the same time. **

**No story is ever unbiased, even when the good guys tell it. Which is why I felt terrible (for my Decepticons.) ****I was... ugghddmjkg when I found out about how Orion was made Prime when Megatron was just... you know what? Never mind. If I continue, I'll just start ranting and ugh. I mean, I honestly felt like slag at the sad story. How dare they.**

**Aside from that, it's time for Darkstrike to continue to prove herself. Yep, things will happen.**

**Also, I am a believer on Primus bringing together two Cybertronians to become destined Bond-mates. So, bring Soundwave and Darkstrike into the equation and... ta da. At the moment, it's mostly Darkstrike's spark that is feeling it but I'd rather not reveal more.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I was so pleased with the amount of feedback I received. I was not entirely expecting it, but it still managed to make me happy! I sincerely apologize for the late update. It's not easy sometimes, but I luckily have motivation right now. :) I will make sure that next update does not take as long. **

* * *

**Provocative-** **_tending to provoke a response, e.g., anger or disagreement_**

**Brightplate- _a general mildly offensive term for a Towerling or upper-caste mechanism, or aimed at transformers who at least appear to be of upper class - too polished, too clean, not enough armor, etc. _-Canon Transformers term**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Darkstrike sat on her rusty berth, analyzing the data pad in her servos. The poor lighting shone onto her new armor. Her red optics narrowed as she easily decoded the encryption to reach the information. Her claws diligently typed on the data pad until a bright blue message popped up on the screen. Darkstrike skimmed over the first page until she realized what it was.

She went to the next page... and the next... All of the pages were battle moves; slick battle strategies specifically...

She almost dropped the data pad in shock. Darkstrike was quick to catch it half way before it hit the floor. Her optics widened as she set it down on the berth. She could hardly remember that datapad being on the berth from the other room when she and Soundwave had arrived. Then again, Soundwave had distracted her.

It was almost as if Soundwave had left it for her. Did he? Why would the terrifying mech leave her such a device? There was no purpose to it. Soundwave didn't like her, she knew that much. It didn't seem logical that would he take the time to indirectly give her this.

His behavior was becoming very unclear for her. Would he act cold and ignore her... or would he pleasantly grab her like he did? Not that she wanted either...

Darkstrike already felt humiliated at her reactions from having mere contact with Soundwave. The feel of his servos was enough to send shivers tingle up her back-struts. His intimidating aura chilled her to the core. His touch absolutely frightened her... but it was an _exhilarating_ risk that Darkstrike had never experienced, even when she was courting with a wrecker in her past caste.

Darkstrike wanted more. Though, she knew that her contact with Soundwave was asking for a miracle. Darkstike didn't know whether she liked that or not.

She had been so blunt with her reactions that she wouldn't be surprised if Soundwave knew that she...— She _what? _How _did_ she feel about Soundwave?_ Well he scares the life out of me, that's for sure._

Darkstrike was old enough to know how these things worked. There was no denying his pleasing his physical appearance was. The femme scowled at herself. She was simply... _drawn_ to him... so to speak. If anyone heard her, they would probably scoff, including herself. Looking at the way she cowered from him, it didn't seem like she was "drawn".

She looked down at the datapad again. Perhaps her processor needed to be distracted.

She began to revise and study the first page. There were moves she'd never heard of or seen, but then again... her previous caste wasn't known for fighting. The moves on the data pad were complex, and needed excellent precision. She however, had all this time to learn. Darkstrike would hone her skills. It would be a matter of how much effort she added.

Gently setting it down, Darkstrike began to strip herself of the armor. Fresh wounds were revealed on her protoform. It was nothing that couldn't be healed. She'd pay a visit to the medic tomorrow. That was, if she received enough recharge to recuperate enough.

She laid down on the berth, rubbing the sore protoform and scratches. Her optics slowly began to close. Her arms sprawled out on her berth. The weariness was enough to remind her of the battle she recently participated in. It was odd how she was able to survive without regret. It was odd how easily she had been able to sacrifice another to save her spark.

Then again... survival was selfish...

Though, did that make her selfish as well?

Her optics closed and recharge overcame her before she could dwell on the question.

* * *

Red optics flickered open. Darkstrike looked at the ceiling above her. She frantically gathered herself, ignoring the slight aches of pain that emitted from her wounds. She stood up on her pedes, her optics searching the room she was in. Darkstrike deflated when she saw that she was only in her room.

Not the room she had lived in for vorns, a room she had received a little more than an orn ago.

She sagged and deeply frowned. She looked down at her scattered armor and began to sluggishly attach it back onto herself. As Darkstrike finished, she extended her limbs to examine herself. The armor felt thicker... and a bit heavier. Other than that, she had to give Soundwave credit. He did well in adjusting her armor... in a painful sort of way.

Darkstrike thumped her helm with her servo. She needed to stop thinking about that accursed mech! He seem to make it very clear that he could end her life easily. Darkstrike didn't doubt it he was, after all the second-ranking mech in the whole Pit! That meant Soundwave was the _second_ best mech there! There were so many mechs in the Pits... and he was second best. It frightened her _why_ Soundwave had made contact with her in the first place!

She was just an ordinary -Gladiator- femme! She was ranking near the bottom! She basically had the least chance of enduring the Gladiatorial conditions. Soundwave should have just seen her as a nuisance. _M__aybe he did... _Then why did he provoke those reactions to her? Why did he give her the datapad? Did he mean to give it to her? It was probably coincidental, or worse, she had stolen it from him. Her processor scoffed in agreement. _Don't feel special; you're not that important, _it told her.

Darkstrike deadpanned and grunted in annoyance.

She walked over to the door, her legs almost dragging. She didn't want to leave the safety of her room, but she was malnourished. The energon in her systems was much below half. Her systems would fail before the cycle would be over.

Unlocking her door, she walked out.

Darkstrike looked down at her pedes with every step she progressed with. She followed the corridors, and soon enough the thunderous roars of the mechs reached her ears.

She entered and as the door swished open, it revealed all the mechs swinging their firsts in the air happily. Darkstrike kept her gaze towards the ground as she walked down the tables. Her recent upgrade seemed to unintentionally get their attention. This unwanted attention was beginning to make Darkstrike contemplate whether it was a positive thing she received an upgrade.

Whistles and roguish calls reached her audios. She gave a deep intake. Just when she had thought that they would stop calling out to her. Was it really inevitable?

"Ahh, look at that! I guess it's official. Our femme here... is a Gladiator."

This earned various chuckled.

"I don't know... I kinda liked her other armor. It was easier to see what she hid beneath it."

There was more sly laughter. Darkstrike fought back a blush. Oh, how she wanted her servo to connect with their faceplates! It would give her such pleasure to hear the crisp metal reverberate across the room, the sound of a mouthplate and an enlarged ego shattering in her audios. The audience watching would have mad it all the more sweeter.

"Not that this isn't a good view, hmm."

Darkstrike couldn't wait until she received her sword.

She reached the counter. The familiar red mech stood there revising his data pad. His bored expression seemed permanent, that is, until his optics flickered ever-so-slightly in her direction. As smirk crawled onto his faceplates.

"How can I assist you, dear?" he asked chuckling. This didn't amuse Darkstrike at all, quite the contrary.

"Energon." she deadpanned. He sniggered at her lack of enthusiasm. He filled up her energon a little more than usual, she noticed.

"A gift for you, darling." he whispered. Darkstrike raised her optic ridge warily as she grabbed the cube. She swished it in her servo and gave the mech a bewildered expression.

He chuckled went back to reading his data pad.

As Darkstrike made her way through the tables, she noticed a lot of mechs clearing space and patting the seat next to them for her to sit at. She grimaced and walked over to the familiar wall.

Ignoring the holes that the mechs bore into her with their gazes, Darkstrike flopped down on the floor lacking any grace. She sipped her energon cube and kept her optics fixated on it. If Darkstrike looked up, she would meet at least one of their gazes. She refused to give any of the mechs the pleasure of her embarrassment.

The familiar thought of Soundwave crept up into her processor again. Was he also watching? That was enough encouragement for her to take the risk and find out. Slowly, she lifted her helm and quickly glanced at the crowd of mechs. Her optics flickered at all of them until she found a specific one.

She saw him.

_Him._

_Soundwave. _

He seemed to be taking his energon cube with him. Darkstrike found herself wondering if he would take off his visor to consume it. Her predictions seemed to be incorrect as he subspaced the cube.

Suddenly blocking her view was the recognizable armor of white and red. Her optics drifted up to see RocketShield smirking. She automatically looked away and averted all of her attention onto her energon cube. She drank more of it.

The mech above her didn't seem to like to be ignored, for he kicked her side. Darkstrike stumbled to her side with an 'oof.' She glared up at the mech above her but bit her glossa, in fear of the consequence that came with her words.

She gulped down a good portion of her energon before discarded it on the floor. She'd drink the rest when they'd leave. Too scared and annoyed to look up, Darkstrike kept her helm lowered.

"Get up." he stated. She ignored him.

"I said _get up._" he snapped. She glared at the ground knowing that looking up at him would only make her ire rise. He wasn't bad to look at, but his personality sure made her despise him.

"Femme, are your audio-receptors malfunctioning?" RocketShield asked. No words were uttered from her vocals. Darkstrike had a feeling that RocketShield wouldn't be satisfied with this type of response either. There was no way she could win or remove herself from this situation without receiving some sort of pain or humiliation.

Her thoughts were confirmed as she received another rough kick on her side.

"Look at me, _Brightplate_." Her optics suddenly snapped up at him.

She froze.

Darkstrike looked up at him for a few nano-kliks. She kept silent. It was then that Darkstrike slowly stood up while fiercely glaring up at him, never taking her optics off him. She bit her glossa once more to prevent her extent knowledge of Cybertronian curses from filling RocketShield's audios.

"_What do you want_?" she snapped. She clenched her servos tightly into fists. Her denta gritted together. RocketShield smirked again, his smug look gracing his features. It seemed that things were in his favor again. It also seemed that the mechs behind him were encouraged by their leaders positive attitude change.

"Oh, feisty are we?" he asked giving her sharp shoulder armor a flick.

Darkstrike was not amused.

"Maybe that'll be _our_ little nickname... _Brightplate,_" RocketShield mocked. He was getting bolder. He used his finger to roughly tap on her shoulder making Darkstrike stumble back. "And look at that! The name fits with your new shiny armor! Whata coincidence, wouldn't yah say..." RocketShield leaned in closer to her. "_Brightplate._" he finished, the mechs behind him also laughing. His scarlet optics burned into her.

Darkstrike fumed and leaned forward, a sign that she was challenging him. Getting close to someone meant that you were threatening them, going against them. This was something that surprised RocketShield.

Darkstrike had a strong glare on her face. If there was something she hated more, it was nicknames. After one was previously given to her, she knew that one was enough. After all, the only nickname she had received was ruined by the mech that had given it to her.

She could withstand being called, femme, or even any other lame insult others came up with, but a Brightplate... _Brightplate_ was everything Darkstrike stood against. She stood completely against the term. It wasn't a nickname she wanted to share with anyone, much less with a mech called _RocketShield. _

"Why don't I give you a nickname..?" she asked, thinking of a few that would certainly fit him, "Or perhaps your own designation is enough insult."

The look on RocketShield's faceplates was beginning to make her regret her words. The look on his faceplates made the mechs behind him cease laughter.

"Can't take a joke, RocketShield?" she spat narrowing her optics. The look of indignation was certainly much better than the look he usually wore.

Unfortunately, she only got to see it for a few kliks before a fist swung her way. Before she could process anything, Darkstrike was flung back by the impact on her shoulder. She collided into the wall behind her. There was a mild pain on her shoulder. Luckily, he avoided hitting her facepates... what a gentlemech.

"What's the matter, can't take a punch?"

She grunted and closed her optics as she flinched back at his approaching faceplates. RocketShield had lowered his faceplates down to hers, only inches apart. He smirked and reached out for her energon cube. He swished the blue liquid making Darkstrike's optics open suddenly. She looked at it and drifted her optics back to him. She looked at him with a pleading expression. She silently supplicated as her claws clenched with anticipation.

"Is there something you want, _Brightplate?_" he slyly asked. Darkstrike glared at him and bit her lip.

"You're a piece of slag." she spat at him. His mechs and him laughed at her bold words. RocketShield extended the cube near her faceplates and took it away when she leaned into it. With a wicked glint in his optics, RocketShield gulped down the remainder of her energon. She looked at him in complete and utter disbelief.

The bell was a perfect harmony in her audios when it rung, successfully interrupting them.

RocketShield shot her look of contempt and he gave her another remark to confirm his superiority to her.

"Come on. Training hasn't even started and you're on the ground already... _Brightplate_." he spoke. Seeing that Darkstrike wasn't going to get up, he hummed in triumph.

Darkstrike sulked on the ground and watched all the mechs left to go train. She deflated and took the discarded cube in her servos. All of them left, but Darkstrike wanted to stay on the ground. The humiliation was familiar yet still unbearable.

It was the feeling of ignorance she was also feeling; inferiority.

No tears of coolant left her optics as she stood there.

It seemed the she wasn't the only one that stood there though. A shadow loomed over to her, and Darkstrike refused to look up to see who it was.

Though, there was a significant difference in her spark.

This made her look up. The mech that stood before her was enough to strike more fear into her in a nano-klik, than RocketShield would be able to do in a lifetime. Darkstrike backed up into the wall and pressed herself on it.

Soundwave looked down at her coldly.

"Disappointing." he stated. He turned away and began walking towards the door. Darkstrike felt an immense amount of shame well up in her. For some reason, when Soundwave told her this... it made her feel even more mortification. It made her spark weigh with chagrin.

She stood up quickly and stepped closer to him. Soundwave heard her and turned around to look at her slightly. She violently threw the cube towards a wall, causing it to shatter in the almost empty room.

"What would you have expected me to do?" she asked. Soundwave lifted his arm and pointed a sharp finger at her.

"To fight and used resources. Darkstrike did _nothing_." he responded. Well if she didn't feel anymore useless, his words certainly hit the mark. Soundwave didn't say anything else to her. He exited the room and left her to her thoughts.

_Resources... did he mean the datapad? _Darkstrike also walked out of the room, keeping his harsh suggestions in mind.

It was true, Soundwave had called her disappointing, and for the mech to downright say it, meant that it was _truly _disappointing. But his suggestions were either meant to help her or criticize her, she sincerely hoped it was the former.

Darkstrike knew she wasn't useless, others just didn't seem to see that. If someone was _finally_ giving her useful advice, she would take it. The valuable datapad would allow her succeed. No longer would would she be a _disappointing_, as Soundwave had called her. She would be something more.

She would be a Gladiator.

* * *

For the next couple of orns Darkstrike studied her datapad rigorously. Every single character and Cybertronian letter was not missed by her keen optics. Her claws typed, with the only goal of discovering the knowledge inside and out of the datapad.

However, practicing the moves was a lot more complicated than it was reading them. It was quite complex the way she had to bend to just the right angle, or sharply turn to the best precision she could attain. Adjusting her entire body was difficult and this reminded her just how sturdy her joints had to be.

Though, throughout all, Darkstrike couldn't let RocketShield watch her practice this. There was nothing wrong with it; all moves were allowed onto the arena, but Darkstrike wanted to wait at just the right time to wipe off that arrogant slagger's grin. Oh, and she hoped the moment would be glorious.

Darkstrike hoped everyone would see it, perhaps even Soundwave. That was, if the mech decided to be around her at the time.

The mech hardly spoke with her anymore. It almost made her spark... sad. Darkstrike almost wanted to slap herself. Soundwave didn't care! She shouldn't either! If he decided that he wouldn't show himself to her then Darkstrike should accept it. She decided that she would ignore the unnecessary and stupid feeling in her spark every time she would walk by Soundwave and he merely ignored or brushed her off. The only time Darkstrike _really_ wanted to have his attention is when she'd prove herself.

She would do it in one of her concurring fights. If all went well, she'd try it in her next fight (which happened to be in an orn and a half.) She had actually been in quite a few battles in the past couple of orns. Contrary to what others thought, it was not easy learning the moves, let alone perfecting them. Especially for her; a femme with no actual past experience on strategy in battle. It was a miracle that she had been able to get as far as she did.

As she slowly moved up in the ranks, her opponents got tougher to fight against. While the mechs varied in size, it still was harder to take down larger bots. Darkstrike was not going to lie. There were some pretty nasty gashes and wounds as a result of her inexperience. There was the aching pain that followed afterwards. There was the stinging of the energon that leaked through. There was the volts of pain that traveled up her systems, and not to mention her sore joints.

That was what she was feeling at the moment. Darkstrike had just won a fight out in the arena. She had overexerted herself to the point where winning was her only option. Heck, she had almost been desperate enough to use the moves she had not yet perfected. For victory, it was worth it.

Why she had wanted to win so badly, was because of her last fight. Darkstrike had lost and RocketShield took full advantage of it. He taunted her and even tried to convince the owners that she was unfit for battle. However, the owners were still convinced that she was still useful in the arenas and that losses were not uncommon among them. It was decided that she continue, with the punishment of not receiving energon that cycle.

Darkstrike knew he had lost because the mech she battled against had much more strength than she did. At least, that was what she told herself. She had all her weapons with her, but she had still felt like something had been missing that cycle. However, the flier had everything... except great strength, that is. That meant that she had to rely on only her sword, something that didn't help her as much as it should have. Unfortunately, the con to practicing her battle moves, meant limited time for practicing with her weaponry. So, seeing as she had the disadvantage, Darkstrike had lost.

Yes, she had been brutally mocked by it... mostly by RocketShield. Though, she had chosen silence as her best remark. The mechs had stopped after they saw that they couldn't get the femme riled up.

It was then that Darkstrike realized the mechs weren't taunting her in particular. They seemed to taunt every mech that lost, but RocketShield was purposely being hard on her.

Darkstrike threw the thoughts in the back of her processor as she limped out of the arena. She needed to go to the medic urgently. The gash on her abdomen and top inner thigh seemed to be leaking the most energon. It was a miracle that she had not offlined right there.

She soon would if she didn't receive any energon.

Deciding make a turn, she thought to herself, _forget the medic. I need energon. _

* * *

The femme had redeemed herself.

That was all Soundwave could say after hearing about her last battle and how it went down in flames for the femme. Megatronus, who had watched the fight, told him that she hadn't been as skilled with her sword as first predicted.

Soundwave knew why that was. He was keen enough to catch the femme performing moves that were only familiar to him. She lacked grace and precision, but he saw progress. Though, Soundwave did stay to watch her struggle. The way her frame twisted and turned to degrees suggested she was probably not accustomed to exerting herself. It pleased him knowing that Darkstrike was realizing that to success required laborious joors of effort.

Despite watching her attempts, it would be the fights that would determine whether it had all paid off.

The only aspect that irked him was the fact that Darkstrike let RocketShield command her and treat her like the dirty ground he walked on. What had she done to retaliate? _Nothing. _It discouraged him. Soundwave of course never intervened. Why should he? Everybot to himself was a common motto around there.

If there was a reason why Soundwave even regarded the subject, it was because RocketShield needed to know that he was as worthless as the common mech beside him. Soundwave hadn't done it himself because he would not stoop the the mech's level to prove that he was superior. It was not worth his time.

Darkstrike on the other servo, wouldn't have to stoop to any level, in fact, she'd probably gain some rank.

Though, that cycle would be yet to come, for the femme still refused to defend herself properly, and for that Soundwave did not speak to her. It didn't seem to have pleased Darkstrike; he kept hearing the thoughts that emanated from her. They were not positive thoughts. They were thoughts of anger, denial, and even hurt.

He preferred not to dwell on the uselessness of that last one.

Either way, it intrigued Soundwave that the femme had a new thought for him, even when he made the slightest of glances at her. Glances that he had _allowed_ her to see, of course. Unbeknownst to the femme, he constantly watched her to keep up with her success.

He attended most of her fights; only _most_ because if he attended all of them, some were sure to notice and become suspicious.

It had been ironic, as he did not attend the fight where Darkstrike had lost. He did not know who she had been fighting against that cycle, only knowing that one of them was the victor. It was not her. When the fight was over, he had seen the medic quickly rush through into the arena. The other Gladiators were leaving the stands, and they had been murmuring amongst themselves about the energon that had been spilled.

Soundwave was not alarmed, and it was not until later that Megatronus also exited.

_"Soundwave!" Megatronus called out. He turned his helm to the other Gladiator's direction to acknowledge his presence. Soundwave walked towards Megatronus vise versa. "Soundwave, I didn't see you. We usually both survey the femme's fights."_

_"Not currently." he responded. Megatronus chuckled. _

_"Yes, I noticed. Though, I wouldn't have recommended you to see it." the silver Gladiator remarked. _

_"Reasons?" he asked. _

_"Your femme lost for the first time." Megatronus replied. Soundwave instinctively turned his helm to view the arena behind Megatronus. There was a slight glitch in his spark. He'd have to get it checked out later. Nonetheless, the same moment it came, the glitching was gone. _

_"Not to worry, the medic came to her aid. Your femme will be repaired. I'm sure the owners aren't pleased that their main currency-maker is injured. Figures. Those slaggers would do anything to make a quick coin." Megatronus scowled. Soundwave disliked the way Megatronus named the femme 'his.'_

_"Femme: Not mine." he clarified, putting more emphasis in his tone of voice. Megatronus let out a laugh. _

_"Apologies, I did not mean to offend you. I merely assumed that she had caught your optic..." _

Soundwave knew he couldn't let himself slip like that again. Megatronus had somehow found out that the femme had sparked a tiny, tiny interest in him. Soundwave was the one that observed everything, never the one being observed. Megatronus was too keen, and he realized that he was have to be more alert when around the other silver Gladiator.

Though, that was far from the point.

He had left the femme for her recovery and was indifferent about her quick return to the rec room. RocketShield however, had not given his taunting a break, but instead enhanced it. He saw her weakness and quickly attacked it. Though, instead of dealing it like the femme usually would, she angrily took her energon cube and limped out of the room, not before telling RocketShield that he could frag himself.

Once she left, the room reverberated with chuckles and laughs all directed towards RocketShield. The mech had fumed off to an unknown location, leaving the spectating bots behind.

Soundwave closed his thoughts as he arrived closer to the arena entrance where Darkstrike was supposed to exit. The fight had ended a few kliks ago, and he had watched her victory. Watching her redeem herself was interesting, and he had more or less enjoyed it. Though, the femme had quite a few injures. Energon was visible on her frame and she walked with a limp.

As Soundwave reached the entrance, he saw that it had been left open. A trail of energon suggested that the femme had headed towards another direction. He followed the trail, knowing that the femme couldn't have gone far.

* * *

Darkstrike urgently needed energon. Unfortunately for her, she had already gotten her fill earlier that cycle. She knew that the mech would not give her anymore. He'd probably make her do a little 'favors' before he would give her some. Darkstrike wasn't interested. So, she had limped off to see if she had any left in her room where she had taken some of her cubes.

She doubted it, but there was not much else to do. The medic took forever to address her wounds, and Darkstrike was not going to lie around helplessly like last time. Especially not in front of those other mechs and femmes.

Just as Darkstrike took a step forward, she realized that she mistimed it, and collapsed on the metal floor. She groaned and closed her optics as her vision blurred. She shook her helm and struggled to sit up against the wall.

If she had just _waited_ for the medic to come, she wouldn't have been in this situation. But her insatiable thirst for energon to fuel her empty tanks was stronger than patience. She clutched her abdomen and let her legs lay flat on the floor. She vented heavily as she sat there. She let her helm lean back and press against the wall.

As pedesteps began to make themselves audible, her optics opened suddenly. Darkstrike hoped with all her spark that it was not RocketShield. She prayed to Primus that out of all the mechs, it was not him. Her claws clenched on her wound with anticipation.

Coming to view was the unmistakable high-ranking Gladiator, Soundwave.

Darkstrike almost wished that it had been RocketShield. She didn't want Soundwave to see her in such a _vulnerable_ state. It would only serve to disappoint him, and her spark didn't seem to want that.

She was leaking and completely at his _mercy_, not that she wasn't before, the only difference now was that she had no energy to defend herself. Darkstrike couldn't help but think of the possibility that he would take a glimpse at her, shake his helm in dismay, and leave her to herself. Part of her was expecting it.

He slowly walked over to her. Each step made a soft thump in the empty hallway.

Much to her utter shock, the mech knelt beside her and used her sharp fingers to grasp her chin and roughly bring it so that she looked at him. As soon as her optics connected with his visor, she couldn't tear them away. It was as if they were glued to the face mask he wore.

"Femme: Injured. The medic is not in this direction. Actions: Unintelligent." Soundwave told her. She felt her spark burn with embarrassment, more because she knew he was right.

"I am in need of energon." she spoke, her words sounding hoarse and shaky. Soundwave backed up, and for a moment, she thought he would leave. Much to her surprise, he took out a blue cube from his subspace.

It was his energon. She knew it was his. Whose else could it be?

He placed the cube up to the femme's lip components, and Darkstrike's optics widened completely. She had definitely not been expecting this, much less from this mech. Questions began to fill her processor, but before she could contemplate, Soundwave had pushed the cube up to her lips. Darkstrike eagerly drank, and noticed how this energon tasted a little better than hers.

Soundwave had let her drink his whole cube and when there was nothing, he tossed it aside. Darkstrike, now having her fill, had clear vision and was completely aware of her surroundings. She looked at Soundwave with wide red optics.

His helm was tilted down as he was searching for her wounds. He grabbed her servo that was clutched on her abdomen, and he quickly removed it. Darkstrike felt her cheeks flushing at the feeling of his servo momentarily grab hers. She ignored the feeling, and she looked away in slight shame as Soundwave looked at her wound.

She wasn't too happy that she had let her opponent take a hit at her that deep, especially at her protoform.

Soundwave looked down on it and studied the gash. His servo tentatively touched the energon above it, but Darkstrike hissed, though Soundwave didn't flinch. His helm turned up to see her uncomfortable and pained faceplates.

"I will proceed." he stated. Darkstrike gritted her denta again but didn't protest. She did however, emit another groan filled with pain as he addressed the severity. Seeing the femme squirm under his grasp, he gave a firm command, "Soundwave will proceed."

He subspaced something else and before Darkstrike could object, he had pressed the substance on to her leaking wound. She flinched and grunted at his none-too-soft touch. She wasn't complaining though; the mech had already taken the time to treat it. Gentleness was not needed nor asked for.

Then, Soundwave's servo wandered onto her thigh. He lightly gasped the bottom of it, making Darkstrike gasp and her optics to suddenly open wide. Just as he began to pull her thighs open, Darkstrike immediately pressed them together in slight haste. She looked at him nervously as her cheeks flooded with blue.

"Let me assess injuries efficiently." he spoke. His mechanical voice seemed to have eased her a bit and she had let him open her thighs. Darkstrike felt a different type of vulnerability as she felt almost completely exposed to him. It made her spark feel warm, and Darkstrike responded by telling it to shut up.

Soundwave traced his servo up her inner thigh up to the gash she had near the top of it. He was suddenly gentle. Darkstrike refused to admit that she liked the way his sharp finger delicately brushed over her armor with such care... that may or may not had made her spark purr in delight.

He took out more of the substance from his subspace. He rubbed it carefully on her wound, causing Darkstrike to shiver instead of feeling the pain or stinging. When he was finished, his touch lingered as he grasped her thigh completely with his servo.

"Oh my Primus," Darkstrike choked at the was a pleasant sensation even through her numbing wounds. Though, this made any other part of her armor and protoform much more sensitive. Soundwave refused to let go of her thighs. As Darkstrike made an attempt to close them, his grip tightened on her, making her gasp out.

"Soundwave, I-I am grateful... but I-I do not think that you should trouble yourself with," Darkstrike swallowed, "Assessing my injuries."

"Your health: Assumed to be important to you." he said. Darkstrike averted her gaze. Glowing red optics illuminated her white, almost silver faceplates.

"Yes, but that is only my problem. Not your burden, and I shouldn't assume that you care." she said fearfully down-casting her optics entirely.

Soundwave was quick to dig in her mind and read the thoughts that were on the surface of her processor. The femme was half honest with the response he gave her. Part of the other reason she that didn't want him aiding her in such a close proximity. The femme kept trying to deny to herself that she didn't like him at all, or that didn't feel the tingle of her spark every time he touched her in such a way.

It made his spark glitch yet again. It was a feeling, while not entirely displeasing, had been completely unwanted by him. The femme was easy to manipulate but Soundwave didn't see any other reason why he should invest in it if not for entertainment.

His servo slid from her thigh making a bright blue blush rise on the femme's silver faceplates. He stood up, grasping the femme's arm, pulling her up with him. She complied and grunted in supporting herself.

Though, she didn't dare lean into him, he noticed. That was good; he wouldn't have let her. His hold on her was sufficient enough to make sure Darkstrike did not collapse again. However, even in the contact that he was making with the femme, he made sure that his stance told her that she could not overstep the boundaries.

Darkstrike was quick to learn this as she did not touch him in any form.

"Thank-"

"Gratitude unnecessary." Soundwave quickly interjected. Darkstrike deflated a bit and almost leaned away from the mech, hadn't it been for the servo holding her arm.

"Yes, I figured. Though, I just wanted to-..." she trailed off as Soundwave turned his helm in her direction. The femme suddenly quieted her vocals and lowered her gaze towards the floor.

"Proceed," Soundwave said. Darkstrike hesitated, but continued.

"You say that gratitude is unnecessary because you think nothing of this. Perhaps part of me thinks of it as that too, but when it's my own life threatening to extinguish... it... it matters a little more."

"Matters more than a common mech?" he asked.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, but you can interpret it like that. Sometimes your own life is a bit more important over a stranger's."

"Survival: Selfish?" Soundwave asked. Darkstrike was increasingly getting nervous, unsure of how to answer his question. She was afraid to give him a wrong answer; Soundwave was still capable of anything at the moment. Another squeeze of his servo made her answer.

"No. Survival is not selfish. It is simply a matter of not taking the time to save someone else's spark when yours has the same possibility of perishing too. It's a matter of being smart enough to worry about yourself instead of others."

"Darkstrike's reasoning: Suggests Soundwave discard you since you do not concern me."

She choked and nervously squirmed as he tightened his grip even more.

"That's not what I meant for you to understand." Darkstrike stuttered.

"Query: Would you assist Soundwave if about to perish?" he asked. Darkstrike's optics widened largely and would have froze if Soundwave hadn't pulled her forward. It was a trick question. He knew it and she knew it...

What would she respond? Should she tell him the truth, or lie? This could easily escalate. Would he get offended...? Well... he's bound to get offended with either response. Maybe... maybe if she gave him the response he was looking for... he would be less offended. Darkstrike hoped so.

Mustering up any courage, she looked straight at him, her faceplates _almost_ showing nothing.

"No." Darkstrike responded. Soundwave turned his helm to look at her. This made her turn away immediately.

Soundwave knew that the femme's response was to be expected, but there was an uncertainty in him that fueled him to pluck the real information from her mind. Soundwave's mind easily and unnoticeably invaded hers... and it didn't take him long to see that she was lying. The femme was lying... for him... to satisfy him.

That meant the femme would actually... save him, contrary to previous bold statement. It was almost befuddling how her opinion changed when the Cybertronian about to perish was him.

Just as the medic's room came in their view, Darkstrike made a move to leave Soundwave's grasp. Yet, he pulled the femme closer to himself. He lowered himself into her audio and uttered the last few words before he left her to herself,

"Your lies are obliged but the truth is preferred."

* * *

**A/N: ****As for why the Gladiators don't particularly like her... well because they don't trust anyone from higher castes. They dislike the treatment they receive for them, as is expected. **

**Thank you for being patient with me. Next update should not take as long, and even less because half of the chapter is already written out. Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm glad to know that many of you are still interested in this story. Thank you for giving me the confidence to proceed. Writing about Gladiators is so interesting. ^^**

* * *

****Fortuitous**\- _Happening by luck, fortunate_**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Her wounds were not extensive. The medic didn't do a spectacular job of making her repairs painless, but then again, it was the Pits they were referring to. Darkstrike was grateful for receiving any type of medical care.

As Darkstrike sat on her berth, she couldn't help but reminisce on Soundwave, on his actions and on the reasons behind them. Soundwave didn't have to help her. He didn't have to give her his energon, the energon that they sometimes didn't receive. Soundwave didn't have to help lessen the pain of her wounds. He didn't have to care.

Yet he chose to aid her.

Why he had decided to help her was beyond Darkstrike. He didn't depend on her at all, and she actually should have been a burden for him. Maybe she was. Soundwave seemed like the mech who just didn't care about others. Who wouldn't? In the circumstances they were in, maybe even she wouldn't.

Soundwave was silent and hardly interacted with other mechs, not that she blamed him. Though, Darkstrike still feared him, she held a certain respect for the mech. Of course who didn't? Darkstrike was an insignificant femme, but she somehow managed to receive something from Soundwave. In a way, she felt honored. Darkstrike felt grateful that Soundwave thought that she was worthy of receiving his care. Perhaps Darkstrike wasn't his equal yet, but she would strive for it.

Though why did she want to? Why did she justify him so much? Maybe it was because she wanted to understand. Not just him, but how he managed to make his way towards the top. If Darkstrike wanted to do the same, she might as well observe someone who had progressed. Someone who actually knew how to be a Gladiator. Why she had chosen Soundwave out of any other Gladiator would be a mystery, even to her.

For that, she would need to start acting like she was his equal... even if Soundwave didn't think so. She'd need to cease cowering; Gladiators didn't cower. The mechs around her had a bit more courage, even if some of them were slick. Darkstrike didn't mind it anymore. It wasn't as if the mechs were going to get replaced with kinder ones. If that was the case, many of them would be fakes. Darkstrike needed to become accustomed to their behavior, and get out of her comfort zone. Being shy was something that would lead her to failure in the Pits.

She had been there for a while now. It also wasn't as if she didn't know the intentions of some of the Gladiators that constantly stared at her. Their boisterous and loud behavior wasn't foreign. They were simply being themselves... in a brutal way...

Besides, she was never as shy or introvert in her previous caste. Before, she had a lot of audacity to speak up against even her creators. She made her evident distaste for everyone known. What was the difference now?

Well... they were Gladiators. Skilled Gladiators were significantly different than harmless high castes with no previous experience in fighting. Not to mention Gladiators could throw punches at anything they disliked...

A little more boldness from her wouldn't hurt, would it? She hoped.

Then it was settled. Darkstrike would add a little more spice to her usual dull schedule. She would mix it up and maybe even shock the others. She was, after all, a Gladiator. And a Gladiator didn't act like a Brightplate.

That didn't mean she would get cocky. Darkstrike still needed to find a way to become an equal to the _menacing_ Soundwave.

She slightly scoffed.

To think, the start of these thoughts was because of that accursed mech. It was him that was inovating these thoughts. All because he affected her, and not in such a terrible way.

She could still feel his touch linger on her protoform. The digits were tangible and so gentle, yet so rough. The way they wandered made her shiver. His words in her audios still rung like music in her processor. She could still feel the slight normal heat that radiated off his frame.

Darkstrike threw her sword against the wall, and watched as it made a clean slice. Crooked lines began to form large cracks. The blue blush on Darkstrike faceplates wouldn't disappear.

* * *

Her optics flickered open. Darkstrike was quick to turn on the lights. She adjusted her armor and almost smirked. Today would be different. Darkstrike would experiment with her attitude and see how far she could stretch it. To what extent could a simple change affect her and mechs around her.

Though, she would have to have caution. The mechs were still capable of anything when dealing with her. If she let her guard down completely, she would fall victim to her own doing. That was not something Darkstrike wanted.

She exited her chambers. Darkstrike strode down the familiar corridors. It was a few kliks before she reached the other room. The door hissed open and she took notice that she was one of the first Cybertronians to arrive.

She usually came a lot later since she valued every nano-klik of recharge, but Darkstrike had come there early for a reason. The dark-armored femme walked up to the server of energon. As always, he was engrossed in a datapad that probably held explicit content, but Darkstrike wasn't going to confirm her suspicions.

"The usual," she spoke, interrupting his reading. The mech took his time before regarding her. He grabbed her a cube before filling it up with the blue substance. He extended his arm with the cube.

"Here's _the_ _usual_," the mech mocked. Darkstrike momentarily frowned and rolled her optics.

"Much _obliged_." she replied. She slightly smiled as he raised an optic ridge. Darkstrike snatched her energon before turning around towards the door. It opened and Darkstrike couldn't help but enlarge her smile.

She endured more twists and turns of corridors, but she was determined to find a specific one. Darkstrike's spark lurched in her chassis as she began to near a certain hallway. When she reached it, she noticed the few doors. Her spark began to subtly glow a bit brighter when she reached an all-too familiar one.

She was in hallways that were prohibited for her and others in the low-ranking level. Soundwave had told her that in one of their first encounters... Which was why she was there in the first place. Darkstrike anxiously looked down at the energon in her servos. She swished it around and nervously looked up at the door. Her bright smile melted into a nervous expression.

She balled her claws into a fist. Darkstrike lifted it up towards the door. She hesitated for a few kliks before actually getting the nerve to knock on the large door. The sound reverberated across the seemingly abandoned hallway.

After a nano-klik of no response Darkstrike was beginning to regret her decision to have come in the first place. She looked at the ground and gritted her denta. She slightly backed up, as if making a move to leave.

Suddenly the door in front of her hissed open, making Darkstrike freeze. Her claws clenched the cube in her servo. She could suddenly feel an intimidating gaze on her. Darkstrike didn't know if it was her processor malfunctioning, but the temperature seemed to have decrease as well.

Darkstrike slowly lifted her optics to meet a visor. The servo holding the energon began to shake. However, Darkstrike was determined to complete her own goal. Swallowing any left over energon in her throat, she lifted her helm to look up at Soundwave. He stood there, almost unresponsive.

She mustered a smile, regardless of the fear she held. Darkstrike extended the energon in her servo. She tried to prevent herself from shaking and her spark from glowing.

Soundwave looked down at it but didn't make a move to receive it.

"Query: Why?" he asked. The sound of his resonant voice was enough to make Darkstrike taken aback. She looked away and hesitated.

"I wanted to return the favor... for yesterday." Darkstrike replied.

"Gratitude: Unnecessary." Soundwave immediately stated.

"I know. You said that yesterday. Though, I think that it was also _unnecessary_ for you to give me your energon." she said, attempting to keep her voice from trembling or sounding irritated.

"It was not kindness. Kindness: Preposterous." he stated. Darkstrike recoiled back, as if she had taken a slap to the faceplates. It made the glowing of her spark die down as it hummed sadly. She frowned and looked away. Hurt filled her spark and numbed her claw tips.

Stupid mech. Didn't he know that she was doing it for him? She had gone all the way here to give him energon; her energon nonetheless! What other femme would be as generous to do that?! All the others are selfish glitches! She looked up at Soundwave again.

"Well maybe it's not gratitude why I want to give you my energon; it's pity! I felt sorry that you had to waste your energon on me yesterday." Darkstrike huffed. Her optics narrowed because of her sudden audacity; Audacity that sure as pit wasn't going to last.

"And maybe your kindness was preposterous!" Darkstrike said in selfdefense. Soundwave stepped forward making Darkstrike instinctively back up at the potential threat.

Soundwave continued to stare at the femme.

In a way, it pleased him to get such responses from the femme. He pried her mind, and could easily sense her thoughts. They amused him, and he wanted to see what he could make the femme say directly to him. He preferred the side of the femme that wasn't cowering like a lost sparkling.

Once he stepped forward, this newfound attitude seem to falter.

"It was not kindness. As you said, it was pity." Soundwave coldy replied. Darkstrike blushed as she saw that her own words were used against her.

She frowned and looked down at the cube in her servo. Darkstrike was very much regretting even considering to come here. She felt humiliated that he was right. She didn't have to give him her energon, nor did he ask for it.

But Darkstrike still wanted to give it to him for some reason. _Maybe_ _I'll never learn. _

"My energon is to be received in a joor. Your actions: Unnecessary." he said. The femme in front of him flared and narrowed her optics even more. Her usually red optics seemed to burn a crimson color.

She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out as she stuttered vowels. He continued to look at her, almost challenging her to remark at him. Darkstrike's cheeks flushed with a blue.

Soundwave suddenly took a hold of her servo to take the energon cube. Her optics widened and she rose up to near his visor. Much to her surprise Soundwave didn't flinch back like she would have done. Her irritated and confused expression was only met with the reflection on his visor.

She was only centimeters away from him, and her spark seemed completely out of control because of this. It pulsed wildly, and began glowing again.

"Just take the energon already. The least you can do it humor me" she said. Soundwave should have taken her bold words as a command, but instead they only succeeded to mildly entertain him.

Just as Darkstrike was about to angrily leave, Soundwave grabbed her arm and bought her back. He gripped her waist tightly as he grabbed her chin and tilted it up to look at him better. The grip was tight enough to remind her who she was dealing with. Her optics widened largely in surprise and slight fear.

"Your gratitude is unnecessary... but appreciated, as is your energon." Soundwave said. He gave her waist a rough caress before leaving and letting the femme go. His door hissed shut.

Did he just... thank her?

Darkstrike stood there in shock and in slight disbelief. A few kliks passed by and she still stood frozen. Slowly, her earlier smile began to melt back onto her faceplates. She grinned largely enough that her denta were showing. Her cheeks held a blush on them, and her spark glowed bright.

Darkstrike didn't care if it usually bothered her. Right now it didn't.

She walked away from his door. Darkstrike made her way back in the energon room. The effects from her contact with Soundwave made the path seem shorter than last time. The grin on her faceplates seemed to be permanent. The energon room door hissed open, and Darkstrike took notice that there were more mechs in the room than before. However, it was not filled up completely. This time was still earlier than when she usually entered, and Darkstrike would take this as an advantage to get a seat for once.

She took a seat at an empty table, a distance from the other mechs. The seat was against the wall, and Darkstrike took the advantage to lean on it. Her wings sprawled out behind her, but Darkstrike didn't mind. She extended her arms and placed them behind her helm as she leaned on them. She placed her pedes on the table and crossed them, which made her seem very relaxed. She took a deep vent and exhaled as if all her worries had been alleviated, albeit for the moment.

The energon Soundwave had given her the previous cycle was enough to get her through today, so Darkstrike was not worried. She continued to grin, even as more mechs entered the room.

Even as a familiar group of mechs made their way to the table she was at. Even as she sat there, blissfully unaware that they sat around her.

The grin didn't leave her faceplates, even as her optics opened to meet the scarlet ones of RocketShield.

"What a surprise! Our Brightplate seems to have taken a seat this time," RocketShield spoke up. Darkstrike, still feeling the affects of her current encounter of Soundwave, hardly acknowledged the mech's words. She was delirious, insane, for feeling exhilarated at the memory of being at the clutches of the mech that could have killed her. The risk of offlining thrilled her for some unknown reason.

"It seems so," she replied.

"What's the matter, was the wall taken?" RocketShield asked. Darkstrike looked at him, her smile somewhat faltering. She simply shrugged. The mech across from her frowned at this.

"Negative." Darkstrike responded, her lips hiding a smile. RocketShield's optics widened before his expression became bored. Nobot liked a smartaft. His group of mechs seemed to notice this change in him, and all copied their leader's actions.

"Where's your energon?" he asked looking around and noticing that she had no traces of the blue substance. Darkstrike looked down.

"In a better place..." she mumbled.

"Really now?"

"Yes."

RocketShield said nothing, disliking that the femme had responded with such a mundane answer. He wanted to provoke the femme, eventually gaining her attention at the same time. This was not invoking an interesting reaction from the femme. RocketShield didn't like it. True, he could have just responded with violence, but the gesture would have been empty. There would be no use if she didn't recognize he was better than her in every way.

"Ain't sure I like your attitude, femme." he said, Kaonian accent ringing loudly.

"Femme? What happened to the earlier name you gave me...?" Darkstrike asked raising an optic ridge. RocketShield's optic twitched for a moment. RocketShield was not the brightest of mechs, but not the most idiotic of them, contrary to what Darkstrike believed. He needed to change his strategy. The red mech shifted slightly. It took a moment before he grinned, realizing she had just given him an angle to poke at.

"Brightplate? Didn't know you were so fond of the name," his voice was smug, "Not that it should surprise me. You wanna be called what you are." RocketShield stood up and shoved Darkstrike's pedes off the table. She caught herself before she fell off her seat. She fixed her wings to that they weren't pressed up as roughly against the wall. Her smile momentarily fell, before she realized what RocketShield was trying to do. The anger was starting to boil inside of her, becoming too hot to pacify.

"I like that name as much as I like yours; I _despise_ it." Darkstrike added she narrowed her optics at him.

"You sure 'bout that? I bet I can get you screaming it by tonight." he darkly chuckled. She stubbornly put her pedes on the table once more. The flier glared at him, unpleased with his lewd comment.

"Probably screaming for you to stop." she said, her lips turned to a snarl.

RocketShield's ire rapidly rose; more than Darkstrike would have wanted it to. She had just attacked a mech's masculinity, that never led to anywhere good. She began to regret her decision to change the routine of her day. Sudden thoughts began to flood into her processor.

_Oh_ _scrap_, she just had to open her mouth, didn't she? Had she forgotten that these weren't ordinary high-castes? Darkstrike should have just stayed in her room, avoiding this situation, but then again... she wouldn't have talked to Soundwave. Hearing that deadly voice of had made it all worth it. A mech that thought she was disappointing, had made this worth it... and Darkstrike found that she didn't care what others thought about it. _It was worth it._

"Well give me a chance to prove you wrong." he whispered. The mech had cornered Darkstrike, arms on both sides of her. For a moment, Darkstrike had thought of struggling or squirming in discomfort, but she refrained. Her claws reached up and roughly cupped his cheek. She dug in her claws and smirked at him. RocketShield seemed to notice the look in her optics, and soon tried to back away.

Darkstrike mustered the brightest grin she could and spit at his face. A look of surprise graced his features. RocketShield cringed at the indignity. Her growled and roughly wiped it off, more angry that he was caught off guard in front of his comrades. The blow to his pride seemed to be too much.

He was about to swing at her, until there was a loud clank coming from the back of his helm, interrupting his actions. RocketShield turned around, scarlet optics wide with fury. Much to his confusion, no one was there. His group mumbled to each other; no one had seen who had thrown it.

RocketShield's optics widened in bemusement. As the bell rung, the subject seemed to be dropped. RocketShield threw her one last glare before he and his group sauntered off.

Darkstrike disregarded him, only staring forward with wide confused red optics. She had been fully prepared for the punch to come at her, but this was unexpected.

As usual, the femme was the last one to leave. Before exiting, she walked towards the object that had been thrown at RocketShield. Darkstrike hesitantly picked it up.

Her optics widened when she realized that it was an empty energon cube.

* * *

**One Orn Later**

Her claws seemed to shine with the lighting of the room. Darkstrike hesitated as she flexed them out. She wasn't sure if she would use them in battle. Darkstrike hadn't really regarded them since her first battle. It was odd, considering she had almost killed a mech with them. Darkstrike knew she should have tried to figure out how to use them, but she was almost afraid. Her creator and sire had always gotten her to keep her claws trimmed, and she was beginning to see why.

Darkstrike hadn't trimmed them in a vorn now, but she knew she wouldn't do it. Before, they had never served any true purpose, besides making it more difficult to hold items. Now, they could work to her advantage if she desired. But did she desire it? It scared her that she had power in palm of her servos, literally. Darkstrike didn't know how activate them, but that didn't seem to be a real problem. It was the anger that was a problem. She hadn't felt the intense heat since that cycle she had battled.

The ability most likely had something to do with her burning fury... or perhaps her determination. It linked with one or both.

Though for victory, Darkstrike would rather depend on the battle moves she practiced spent for so long. They were perfected. She made sure of it. On some occasions Soundwave had even stopped to help her. It probably meant nothing to him, but it meant everything to her.

_Darkstrike attempted to twist her body to a certain degree, but her footing was misplaced every time. She growled as she attempted it for a fifth time. The results were the same. She groaned in frustration and punched the wall in behind her. Darkstrike crossed her arms and leaned on the wall. She glared at the empty space ahead of her. _

_She let out a deep sigh and looked at the ground. As soon as her helm rose up, she noticed a tall figure standing near her. Darkstrike yelped and jumped in surprise._

_"Slag!" she yelled loudly. He only looked down at her. Darkstrike gave him a sheepish smile before nervously looking down. _

_"Continue." Soundwave commanded. _

_"What?!" Darkstrike blurted out. _

_"Continue." Soundwave repeated. _

_Swallowing her nervousness, Darkstrike placed her pedes in a certain position. She raised her arms up and swung her elbow before ducking and twisting her body to the left. Unfortunately, her footing was still incorrect, making her trip and land on her knees. She let out a deep vent. For a moment, she thought that Soundwave would kick her. _

_He only watched her frustrated expression. He grabbed the back of her neck and picked her off the floor. When his servo let her go, Darkstrike couldn't help but rub the spot where his servo had previously been. _

_"Observe." he ordered. Darkstrike quickly nodded. _

_Soundwave stood in the same position she had been, except he seemed more precise in it. His long arms were raised, and Darkstrike would have thought that they were a burden, that was, until she saw his movements. He sent his elbow joint forward in the air, before ducking and rolling his body at a faster speed than she did. His pedes switched places as they brushed on the floor, moving him towards the opposite end on her. _

_Darkstrike was amazed. He was... was... excellent... amazing? Soundwave was graceful. Her spark began beating faster, making her use her servo to cover it. Those movements were burned into her processor; it would be impossible forgetting the way he used his body to perform the moves she could not._

_Soundwave tapped a sharp finger on her helm, causing her to flinch back. _

_"Remember." he said walking off. Soundwave walked ahead while Darkstrike stared at his back. She couldn't help her optics from wandering to his aft. She bit her lip. Soundwave suddenly glanced back at her. The action startled Darkstrike making her blush a bright blue. She quickly looked away hoping that he hadn't caught her._

Nevertheless, kliks after he had left, Darkstrike had mastered the move. She wouldn't use all the moves she had learned, but she would do enough to win. Darkstrike was determined. She would win this without getting extensive scratches. If the femme happened to get inured, she'd mask her pain. Playing dirty was no longer cheating. If Darkstrike was using moves that were illegal in a fair fight, it meant she was successfully exploring her Gladiator side.

Darkstrike walked into the full arena of screaming Cybertronians. Her optics looked up at all of them, wondering if they were only looking for a good show. They all probably were, and she'd give it to them.

She knew that she was doing this because she wanted to prove herself. Not only to Soundwave, but to the other Gladiators. She wanted to be one of them! Darkstrike was prepared to unleash her hidden Gladiator. The dark-armored femme stood up straight as she looked at the mech across from her.

He was one of the mechs that followed RocketShield. What a coincidence. It wouldn't be the same causing harm to RocketShield, but it was close enough. Darkstrike would show RocketShield what she was capable of and she wouldn't hold back on his loyal following mech.

She turned her helm to the right where the stands were. There stood the Gladiators that paid to watch her. There were quite a few, and Megatronus was there again as well. She narrowed her optics as she searched for a different mech.

Then Darkstrike found the visor that surprisingly hardly stood out.

Soundwave was here. He was sitting next to Megatronus. Two of the Pit's best fighters had come to watch her. Although it did make her slightly nervous that the highest ranking Gladiator was watching her, Soundwave by far terrified her the most. He rivaled him, she heard. Though, Darkstrike hardly heard of the stories, seeing as she'd need to know another Gladiator for that... or she'd just ask Soundwave upfront.

...

She'd be better off not knowing.

Darkstrike tuned out her thoughts, and into her surroundings. She wanted to take a good look before she had to completely concentrate.

It was a full arena today. That _certainly_ eased her stress. This match meant a lot for her. It was an unofficial match that would allow Darkstrike to fully prove herself. She would win... at all costs. She'd show the Gladiators that she could stoop from previous high castes, to their level.

_"In this corner we have our only femme! How remembers her? Let me hear you all visitors of Kaon yell if you recognize her!" _the speaker encouraged the whistling and shouting mechs.

_"Over here, we last orn's victor, Shanktile!" _he announced, _"Will the femme move on, or will she be bested by this mech?" _the announcer asked rhetorically. Although, judging by the loud commotion in the arena, it was clear that many had answered him. Darkstrike despised the he was making it revolve around her.

_"It's simple. There will be no weapons used, but all else is allowed."_

_"Gladiators... you may begin fighting!" _he said, quickly absconding.

Darkstrike kept her optics focused on Shanktile. The mech had smirked at her, and the smug look had already begun to grind her gears. She scowled at him while clenching her servos into fists.

His optics roamed her body without shame. This edged her on, but that was what he wanted, for her to make the first move. Darkstrike smirked. If that's what he wanted, then that is what he would get.

She launched herself towards him. Darkstrike swung a fist at him but missed. Shanktile didn't miss this opportunity to strike at her. Her optics caught a blurry figure, and nano-kliks later there was a sharp pain at her jaw. She winced but didn't miss a beat to dodge the next shot he was aiming to get.

Darkstrike leaned back and her spark hummed in anticipation. She had gone over the moves many times, and it should be instinct at this point. Her processor quickly registered the position she was in, and where her competitor was.

She took a hold of the arm that was right in front of her; the arm that was supposed to punch her. Her servos wrapped around it, and she twisted it quickly to the around. Shanktile yelled out, and Darkstrike swooped behind him. Mustering all the strength she could, she flipped him on his back. Shanktile landed on the ground with a loud thud.

Her victory was short-lived however, because Shanktile immediately flung his pede in Darkstrike's direction. She fell on the ground as he began to get up. He stood over her and kicked her. Darkstrike rolled until she stopped on her back. Shanktile placed his larger pede on her chassis, continuing to use greater amount of pressure for each nano-klik.

Darkstrike struggled as her armor began denting. She grimaced as he didn't stop. Her servos attempted to pry his pede off her, but it was no avail. In a flurry of panic, Darkstrike looked at her servos. She looked at her long claws.

_Win at any cost. _

Darkstrike's optics deviated towards Soundwave. Out of all the Gladiators, she was able to see him right away.

She turned back to her competitor. In the heat of the moment, Darkstrike dug her claws into Shanktile's lower leg. She made sure to dug them in roughly, making sure of his pain. The mech removed his pede and stumbled back, shocked by her actions. Darkstrike stood up.

She took the opportunity to advance. Darkstrike extended her pede and made sure to connect it firmly with his faceplates. Shanktile was not able to function properly after the blow. But he _also_ seemed determined. Just as Drakstrike extended her leg again, Shanktile caught it. He grasped it firmly and threw her against the arena walls.

Darkstrike couldn't afford to lose.

She couldn't. She _wouldn't_.

She tuned her audios and stood up just as he charged her way. Darkstrike swung her elbow joint towards his neck. Shanktile threw a sloppy punch at her but Darkstrike ducked back and avoided it. She twisted her body at an angle, remembering to switch the position of her pedes as well.

Just as Soundwave had demonstrated.

The fight continued on for a quarter of a joor. There were a couple of wounds Darkstrike had received, but she had practiced her moves thoroughly, and she still had enough energy to proceed for longer. Though, Shanktile, she noticed, was getting desperate. He refused to go down. Not without a solid fight he wouldn't.

It wasn't until she received another painful collision with his sharp armor that she was getting impatient. He had already used that move, and she was beginning to tire of it.

Again, his shoulder armor knocked her back on her aft.

"Enough of this." she growled. Darkstrike stood up and instinctively swung her claws at him. A scratch mark formed on his chassis, and blue energon began leaking out. Darkstrike didn't stop there; she made sure that his faceplates would not leave without a mark.

All Shanktile saw was a blur before he registered a pain originating from his face. He swung his leg, causing Darkstrike to fall. However, she took him down with her. Both of them fell, and without missing a beat, Darkstrike traveled towards him. Her legs wrapped tightly around Shanktile's neck and her arms held his back, preventing any movement from the mech and cutting off his energon circulation.

He struggled and choked in the restrained position he was in. When he didn't give up or say anything, Darkstrike only tightened her hold. Her claws dug into his ar, her anger taking control of her.

A deep heat radiated from her spark and energon circulation. This went on until Shanktile yelled out in pain. It was then that he went temporarily offline. He suddenly went limp in her hold. Small sparks appeared in his joints. Darkstrike narrowed her optics at him and pushed the mech off of her.

She stood up and waited for the speaker to come announce her victory. Either way, the crowd of Cybertronians were cheering very loudly at the excitable fight they had just witnessed.

The speaker seemed to be gesturing to her and speaking with another mech. She frowned, becoming impatient with the wait. The speaker walked over towards her direction, the microphone by his mouth.

_"The winner today would have to be Shanktile..."_ he said lower than usual. Some of the crowd booed, a part of it cheered, and the last part seemed to be mocking her. "Because our femme here happened to break the only rule for this fight." he spoke. Outraged, Darkstrike shoved the mech so that he was facing her. She wore a fierce glare on her face.

"What slagging rule did I break?! There are no rules! That slagger can't even get up, how is it that he won? " Darkstrike yelled at him. She was oblivious that her loud voice reached the microphone the speaker had, making it so that everyone in the arena was listening to what she was saying. All of them quieted down to hear what commotion she was causing. Darkstrike couldn't care less; her attention was directed with her supposed failure.

"Oh yes, there was one rule. No weapons allowed," he said. This did nothing to pacify her anger.

"What are you talking about?! I have no weapons on me! I clearly won! I did not risk my aft for nothing, I can tell you that!" she growled at him. The speaker didn't look amused. It seemed that he was used to dealing with angry mechs disliking his decision.

But she was a femme... and things would play out differently this time.

"Yes, but you used those," the speaker motioned towards her claws. Energon was leaking off them. Darkstrike glanced at them. "And it is included as a weapon,"

She stood there in shock.

"That doesn't matter! I used my bare servos! No real weapons. This is part of my frame if you haven't noticed. If that's the case then Shanktile shouldn't win because he used his armor again me! That counts as a weapon!" she argued. The speaker gave a deep exaggerated sigh. It wasn't the first time he dealt with angry Gladiators.

"Look femme, the decision has been decided. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the _owners_." the speaker huffed in annoyance. Darkstrike was taken aback. She looked at the owners, who also eagerly watched.

At this point, any other mech would have walked off. That was what a mech with common sense would do. The owners were the ones that could send the Gladiators to their offlining.

But she wasn't a mech... and she didn't care.

Darkstrike looked back at the speaker.

"Actually, I'm going to deal this with _you_," she threatened as she poked his chassis with her energon-stained claw. She bared her dentas and sized the mech. "_I_ legitimately won this fight!"

"Oh, and what is it you want to do about it, femme?" he challenged. Darkstrike glared at him. They spent nano-kliks like this. That was, until Darkstrike had a bright idea. She smirked and took the small microphone piece from the speaker. Before he could object Darkstrike pushed him to the floors on his aft.

_"I declare myself today's champion!"_ she announced. The crowd of Cybertronians and even some Gladiators went wild. _"And if **anyone** has a problem with it, take it up with my aft." _Darkstrike looked down at the speaker and threw the microphone towards him. She regarded him coldly before heading towards the door.

Seeing the mechs shouting, cheering, whistling at her, made Darkstrike a little more bold. She snuck a glance at Soundwave. When she was certain that he also was watching her, she threw him a smirk.

* * *

The femme had finally seen him. Soundwave was almost positive that she hadn't seen him for any of the other times he had watched her fights. By far, this one was one of the most interesting battles he's seen.

Darkstrike had definitely practiced her moves. This way she had mastered grace and partially eloquence. It was evident in the way she attacked Shanktile and avoided his blows. She had certainly studied, and perhaps if she were a bit more experienced, she could one cycle rival a higher ranking mech. Though Soundwave didn't set his hopes high particularly for no one, he thought that maybe he would for the femme.

After all, right now it was him that had helped her. Without him, she wouldn't know a thing about the moves she performed.

Then came when the speaker had denied her a true victory. Any other Gladiator would have been outraged, but it was the different reaction that interested him.

The brutal words she spoke, vocabulary fresh out of the Pits, the threatening edge her tone had, and the crimson of her optics was enough to intrigue him more than it should. Soundwave wouldn't say he was impressed. He simply knew when to acknowledge when another bot's prowess in battle. Knowing someone's strengths helped know their weaknesses, and knowing that helped defeat them.

Defeat is what the femme managed to avoid this cycle.

Darkstrike had expressed her words through action and announced herself as winner. The owners seemed particularly amused with this and content with the energon coins the mechs began throwing at Darkstrike. He knew that they would collect them later. He knew that they wouldn't punish the femme for her actions because of their currency. They might even encourage her.

Even Megatronus had stood up to cheer for the femme. Soundwave knew that Megatronus was doing this because he also disagreed with the unfair treatment.

Then there was also the moment when Darkstrike was exiting the arena. She had looked straight at him, and only _him_. It was impossible for Soundwave to miss the smirk she threw at him.

A smirk directed at him.

And for only _him_.

It made him want to go after the stupid femme. She simply couldn't do that and expect him to sit still. Yet, he held back. Soundwave knew that he had enough contact with the femme, and going after her would be useless. Darkstrike was and would only be _entertainment_. That was what he kept telling himself, regardless of the glitching in his spark.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Soundwave saw that all the excitement had died down. Mechs were beginning to leave as was he.

As usual, he walked alongside Megatronus. The silver Gladiator seemed to be content. And Soundwave dreadfully knew why.

"Your femme is quite feisty." Megatronus spoke up. There it was.

"Femme: Not my possession." he stated. At this Megatronus smirked. The silver mech thought he had spotted a weakness in Soundwave.

"I saw the look she gave you. I am wondering if you plan to take her... it is obvious others will." Megatronus said, "Though, I commend you for having good taste in femmes, Soundwave. She knows the truth, as do we. Perhaps I might have her join me in one of my speeches, seeing as you prefer silence as a response."

Soundwave would let Megatronus think the femme was significant to him, because it was far from the truth. The less the other Gladiator knew about him, the better.

* * *

**Next Cycle- In Scrap Room**

Soundwave stood in the scrap room. This was a place were some Gladiators were allowed to take any left over pieces from old or new machines and use them for their own desires. Soundwave often visited this room. He needed to collect various pieces for the drone he was trying to construct. The drone would be used for when of threats arose or for espionage. Constructing it also helped occupy his time.

It was quite complex designing it. Luckily any pieces would work. Soundwave was still in the first stage of designing it so it wouldn't matter anyways. He laid the datapad on the large table as he revised it, checking for any flaws. There were surely still a lot.

Suddenly, the door hissed open. Soundwave snapped his helm up. He stood alert, wary of who it might be.

It was Darkstrike.

Her red optics widened at seeing him. She froze as Soundwave stared her. It looked like she wanted to leave and Soundwave wouldn't be surprised if she did. He looked down at the datapad to continue his work. The femme could do what she'd like, but he wouldn't let it interfere with his work.

The femme seemed to feel less uncomfortable with this and she inched closer to the room. She slowly went over to the table he was at; it was the only table in the room.

She nervously removed her shoulder armor and collar armor, placing it on the table. He could sense her blush. Darkstrike hesitantly glanced at Soundwave. He saw this and lifted his helm to lock gazes.

"Do you mind if I borrow that?" she asked referring to the tool on the table. Soundwave shook his helm and resumed his work. The femme grabbed it and began making repairs to her armor. Both Cybertronians basked in the silence... until Darkstrike broke it. Not that he wasn't expecting this.

"Did you find it entertaining?" Darkstrike asked. Soundwave raised his helm to regard her. "The battle... did you find it entertaining?" she clarified.

"Interesting." he responded. Darkstrike raised an optic ridge and momentarily frowned. She looked down at her servos, as if contemplating on what to say.

"A good interesting? Or a disappointing interesting?"

Soundwave stood silent and didn't respond, leaving the femme to figure it out for herself. She huffed and narrowed her optics at the armor she repaired.

"Did I perform the moves correctly?" she asked. It seemed like she was eager to get her questions across.

"Affirmative," Soundwave nodded. He began receiving loud thoughts from her. It was so abrupt that his fingers slightly twitched. However this slight movement was invisible to the femme. Darkstrike was too occupied beaming with pride at his simple praise. Oh yes, the femme wanted his approval badly. She continued to fix her armor and Soundwave couldn't help but notice her very faint smile.

"Was my presence in your battle desired?" Soundwave asked. Darkstrike looked at him, fully registering the question. She blushed blue and looked away. Soundwave liked this. He enjoyed taunting the femme; It reassured he that he remained more superior than her.

"U-uh... It was _unnecessary_... but it is appreciated," she said. She had used his own words as a response. How clever. Though, he still held a grudge over the smirk she gave him. He was going to teach her that one does not simply smirk at him and walk away.

He walked in front of her, turning her to face him. He kept her there by grasping the sides of her arms. His other sharp finger lightly grazed over her lips.

"Your smirk suggested signs of amusement," he said. Darkstrike struggled to hide her blush. She failed.

"I was half amused and half appealed at my victory. I felt the need to look a distinguishable mech watching me fight,"

She wasn't lying. Though her thoughts said something else, and there was more she wasn't telling. He knew that she wouldn't tell, but either way he'd find out. He'd find out by using direct methods.

"Smile." he commanded. His voice cut through the thick silence.

"What?!"

"Smile," he repeated. Darkstrike bit her lip and looked away. He noticed that she wasn't able to smile when she was nervous or pressured. That meant that Soundwave had to ease the Gladiator femme.

He loosened his hold on her arms and went for her waist instead. Darkstrike jumped at the contact, oblivious that Soundwave was mocking a gentle caress. His fingers softly brushed over her protoform waist. Immediately her tense figure relaxed and melted under the contact. His long fingers were able to extend almost the back of her waist, and he made sure to softly scrape them there.

"Soundwave...?" she asked hesitantly. His other servo lightly poked her lips. "Why do you enjoy grabbing me?" she questioned, a blush forming as her optics narrowed. She was obviously embarrassed that he had decided to touch her when he felt like it. Though, he knew she liked it. Her thoughts were as easy to read as her expression was.

"I am not a pleasure drone..." she grumbled. Soundwave stared at her in silence. He did not want that from her. All Soundwave wanted was vengeance, and he would not stoop to _that_ certain level to receive it. It was much more interesting seeing her regret and question herself.

"Order: Smile," he commanded again. Darkstrike's spark rate increased; he could feel it.

"What will happen if I don't?" she challenged. Her optics narrowed at him, suddenly sporting a new demeanor.

That demeanor would last long once she realized that her superiors were not merely challenged. Not without a retaliation.

The femme slowly began lifting the corners of her lips. She lightly smirked at him.

There is was.

Soundwave stared at this for some time. He suddenly tightened his servo on her waist. Her smirk disappeared as she looked up at him with _fear_.

He stared directly as the panic increased in Darkstrike's optics. He turned her around so that her backside collided with the table. She winced.

"You do not wear fear well." he stated. Darkstrike clenched her dentas together. His servos slipped away from her frame as he turned to the table, back to his work.

Soundwave had her in suspense, but ended their interaction in an anticlimactic way. This thoroughly bemused her. Kliks passed by, there was complete silence. Even her thoughts had quieted.

"What do I wear well?" she suddenly asked attempting to compose herself.

"Victory." he stated. Darkstrike's optics widened. She quickly grabbed the pieces of her armor, reattaching them to herself. It appeared that something he had said had set her off. Darkstrike traveled to the door, and just before she left, she looked back.

"And you wear danger just as well." she said, flashing a wide smirk at him. He had seen this gesture three times now... how _fortuitous _of him. Darkstrike then left, just as abruptly as last time.

Soundwave watched, mildly entertained. If the femme wanted to _play_, then he would gladly oblige.

* * *

**Whoa I made this a bit longer. (Probably won't happen again.) I thought I should compensate after leaving you guys hanging again. :/ I know, I'm slag. Sorry. I shouldn't disregard updates, but you know what? I will have next chapter up in the next week and a half. How bout that? The only reason this is late is because I wanted to do something else with this chapter, but I though it was too soon for our fellow Gladiators. **

**So, I will have next chapter done in an orn :D Thank you to those who still follow my story even though I'm being lazy and updating late. I read _all_ of your reviews and I feel very honored! Thank you so much!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here is this update as I promised. Your reviews constantly interest me and urge my writer's soul! I'd also like to thank Proud2beMexican, seeing as she had given me plenty of ideas to continue. **

**Also, Happy Holidays! A _late_ present from me to you. **

* * *

**Resilient****\- _quick to recover, bounce back_**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

His words echoed in her processor. They reverberated through every inch of her helm only to finish with a long bang that made her helm ache. Darkstrike could not forget the words he had told her. Soundwave had complimented her...? Sort of?

True, he wasn't the first mech to do this, but for the first time, Soundwave was the first mech she knew was being honest. Another mech had told her she had the characteristic of bravery. He was a wrecker that lived in her caste for a while. She courted with him for a long period of time before he left her. Darkstrike had felt something.

Though, that was before she realized that all the promises he had made her were only lies, all of them false. That wrecker made her look into a mirror and see she wanted to see. Then he decided to break it, making it all shatter in crooked pieces by her pedes, and along went her expectations as well.

Perhaps that's why Darkstrike was so drawn to Soundwave. She was _drawn_ to him? That was a way of putting it. He told no lies because he made no promises. The Gladiator was blunt. He didn't treat her like she was someone special. Soundwave didn't shower her with praises and yet, his simple words had meant much more than any useless complement other mechs had given her.

Darkstrike still had yet to figure out what it was about the mech that both petrified intrigued her.

Was it his actions...? His touches...?

Oh, and Soundwave knew exactly where her delicate areas were. Darkstrike wanted to melt to the floors when his long sharp fingers grabbed her. His contact was rough. Darkstrike had never experienced unruly to this degree.

She came up with a conclusion; Darkstrike liked rough. It was absolutely _exhilarating_ when the impassive Gladiator showed his actions to her. He didn't seem to show it to any others. Darkstrike would deny to anyone with flames that she actually liked the way Soundwave mangled with her.

Oh Darkstrike was absolutely _hopeless_.

She was actually attracted to him. Darkstrike liked Soundwave. She knew it perfectly well. After much interaction with the mech, Darkstrike's spark had begun to attach itself to him. How interesting. Darkstrike liked a Gladiator. Well... she was a Gladiator. Out of all the mechs she had met, or out of Kaon, she had to develop this attraction to the most silent, dangerous mech she knew.

She didn't know it possible to be attracted and frightened of a mech at the same time. Darkstrike smirked at how twisted she had made it sound. The Pits were created for battles and scars... and maybe interfacing... Not for stupid feelings.

Soundwave was obviously interested in _something,_ if he had the audacity to touch her without consent.

Or her was just looking for entertainment like all the other mechs. Did he like purposely sending her systems to fritz? Darkstrike disliked this about Soundwave. He _was_ direct with what he had to say, but he was also an enigma, a complete mystery most of the time.

Though, Darkstrike knew that Soundwave probably despised her less than any other mech there (aside from Megatronus.) Why else would he help her, or as he put it, give her pity?

If it wasn't for interface, what was is it he wanted from her?

Darkstrike didn't know, but she would try decoding the puzzling mech.

* * *

**Cycles Later**

Each step that she took seemed to take tremendous amount of effort from her. Her vents were slow and raspy. Darkstrike was low on energon. Unfortunately the owners didn't completely agree with her decision to proclaim herself as victor in her last battle. Her punishment was removing her surplus of energon for two cycles, as well as training for extra joors. As one could imagine, the dark-armored femme was exhausted.

Darkstrike sauntered into the energon room, her optics narrowed into a clear glare, and her mouth pointed in a scowl. She was in no good mood. Darkstrike passed by the tables other mechs sat at, and she ignored their usual whistles and calls. Darkstrike was used to it, and she didn't think much it anymore. She honestly thought that the mechs simply did it because they were accustomed to it. They were so used to the femme passing by them that they wanted to gain her attention somehow. Darkstrike considered it as part of an acceptance somehow. If they were searching to humiliate her, it wouldn't work today.

However, at the moment if any of the mechs dared to make optic contact with her, they were only awarded with her fierce glare. She was well aware that some of the mechs were still more powerful than her but Darkstrike couldn't care less. The Pits seemed to have done that to her. If one of them said anything to her, in this mood, Darkstrike, while still fearing, still snapped back at them. (Only if they weren't too high-ranking like Soundwave.) It was better than usually cowering back.

Besides, revealing her claws was a clear enough signal for the mechs. Even if some of them didn't take it seriously, it wasn't completely futile.

Darkstrike sluggishly made her way to the server. Her arms extended to lean on the counter for support. She buried her helm in them, giving a deep muffled sigh. Her energon tanks were so low, Darkstrike wouldn't be surprised if she offlined right there. Wouldn't the other mechs be thrilled? _Slaggers_.

She kept her helm on her arms and didn't even bother to look up at the server. She could tell that he was amused, by the light chuckle he gave.

"The usual?" the server mocked.

"Shut up and give it to me," she snapped, though her voice was muffled by the arms she lied upon. The mech chuckled again. She let out a series of annoyed grumbles.

He slid the energon cube towards her. The blue substance bumped on her shoulder. Never removing her faceplates from of her arms, she slowly reached for the cube. It took her multiple times before she actually managed to grab it. When she did, Darkstrike bought the cube to her lips. Instantly she felt better. Her systems began to balance themselves out and function more efficiently.

Darkstrike leaned on her arm and lazily looked at the server. He suddenly looked ahead. The mech skittishly began filling up another cube. She noticed that he went towards a different area to extract it, and he filled up the cube higher than hers. She was instantly curious on who he was giving the energon to.

Darkstrike's question was soon answered when she felt the presence of a mech beside her. When she took notice she jumped out of instinct. Soundwave regarded her for a nano-klik before silently taking the energon from the server. The Gladiator looked directly at the femme again before exiting with the cube. Darkstrike watched as he exited the energon room. Darkstrike bit her lip.

She immediately turned her helm back to the server. He had gone back to reading his datapad.

"Hey," she called out. The servo dully regarded her.

"You're still here?" he asked bluntly. Darkstrike narrowed her optics.

"Yeah, but so are you." she responded.

"Have no choice." he responded going back to his typing. He ignored her again. Darkstrike frowned and rolled her optics.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, getting his attention once more.

"_What_?" the mech asked becoming annoyed. Darkstrike pushed her empty cube aside and traveled closer to him.

"What's you're name?" she asked.

"Magnesium," he replied enthusiastically. That would explain his red paint.

"Okay good. You already know who I am so we're introduced."

"Get to the point."

"What do you know about Soundwave?" she quietly asked. The femme looked around, making sure that no one was listening. Magnesium laughed. He set down his datapad seeing that there was something more interesting to avert his attention to. He leaned forward, using his servo to support his chin. Magnesium would gladly indulge in a conversation with the only femme there. He'd enlighten the curious femme while also getting a look at her... armor.

"Not much really. Not many know a lot about the mech... Other than him being the second best mech this arena has ever seen."

"The first being Megatronus," Darkstrike clarified. He nodded.

"He's a very skilled mech. I've heard that he hasn't lost a battle in more than a two vorns... Except for one," he explained. Darkstrike's curiosity increased.

"To who?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

"Megatronus," he stated, "It was the Pit's most popular battle, to date. The two best Gladiators were battling helm to helm. It was intense, and the mighty Megatronus was almost bested by Soundwave. He's a mech that could definitely rival him,"

"And what happened?" Darkstrike asked leaning forward, her optics widening as she unintentionally rasped her claws on the counter.

"Well, Megatronus defeated Soundwave, by one punch. The fight was very close, but Soundwave couldn't continue. Though, instead of finishing the mech off, Megatronus spared him and helped the mech up. Megatronus deemed Soundwave as his equal for almost besting him in fight."

Darkstrike's optics widened and she looked down at the counter. Megatronus did that? Maybe all the mechs there weren't completely bad. They just seemed like it...

"Has anyone ever seen Soundwave without his visor?" she questioned, hungry for any information she could squeeze out of Magnesium.

"Not that I know of. He's always worn it, even from the beginning. Makes it hard for other mechs to know what exactly he's thinking. Not much of a talker either," Magnesium said backing up from the femme and beginning to view his datapad once more.

"But that's all I know. You can't really go up and ask him. From what I've heard, these mechs don't mess with him. I wouldn't either."

"Why not?" Darkstrike asked leaning forward, eager for more information.

"I don't know, and I don't really want to find out. He's capable of anything." he finished. This seemed to satisfy the femme's inquisitive behavior. Her eyes widened and she bit her glossa. Darkstrike leaned back and looked at her empty energon cube.

Soundwave had certainly built up a reputation for himself. It made her fear him just a little more... (if that was possible) and maybe become even more drawn to him. Her servo thumped her helm when she caught herself think that. She truly was hopeless.

"Why the interest?" Magnesium asked. His optics remained on the datapad he was studying as he questioned her.

"Huh?" Darkstrike blurted out.

"Why the interest?" he questioned. Darkstrike slightly flushed and looked away. The made him slyly chuckle. "I would think you'd be interested in the higher ranking ones," he coyly suggested.

His inquisition made Darkstrike immediately glare at him. Her faceplates flushed, both with embarrassment and anger. "Not because of that, you glitch!" she exclaimed in self-defense.

The room went silent as her words lingered. Darkstrike had said her words louder than she intended, and now every mech in the room stared at her. She blushed a brighter blue.

She glared at all of them.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped. As before, her terrible mood made her disregard that there were plenty of mechs that could still take her down. Her slight ire over-weighed her fear in this case.

Though, he remark earned various chuckles from the mechs at the tables. In the end... she did end up feeling flustered. Magnesium smirked at her.

Darkstrike rolled her optics and stomped out of the room, in the same mood as she entered.

* * *

A curled fist swung at the obstacle. Every clean hit she managed to make only encouraged her. Darkstrike's bad mood began calming as she let out her anger in training. She had luckily avoided obnoxious RocketShield that morning and went straight to training. The mech was bound to pop up at some point and Darkstrike would be ready to ignore him._ As usual..._ She patiently waited for the mech to dare show his faceplates. Many mechs still irritated her, but what could she do?

Darkstrike slammed her fist against the obstacle and watched as it fell.

As she traveled to pick it up, she noticed that the mechs were being noisier than usual. That was saying something. A lot of them were training, yet also murmuring among themselves. Their behavior bemused Darkstrike. She walked forward to get a good look at what the mechs maundered about.

She immediately took notice of Soundwave, but she noticed that he wasn't alone. She looked forward in slight disbelief.

In front of him, was a shorter femme, one that was shorter than her too. Granted, Darkstrike wasn't the smallest of femmes, nor was she the biggest, but at least she could actually reach up to Soundwave neck... unlike the short femmebot over there.

She was talking to him, casually gesturing with her servos in a casual way. Soundwave nodded and shook his helm from then and there. Darkstrike clenched the obstacle in her servos tightly. Her spark suddenly rung with more anger.

The femme looked pristine. That probably meant that she was from a higher caste. She had dark-colored armor, a narrowed face, a sharp helm, and metal barbed thin legs sticking out from her back. Her optics were a dark pink; probably a better color for femmes than her red ones. That femmebot's armor was flawless. The armor shone in the light, which was probably the result of buffing. Not that the femmebot had much armor in the first place.

Darkstrike looked at her own rugged up armor. There were slight scratches marred on her armor. Her protoform was partly revealed in some areas, but not as much at that _other_ femme's. She looked at her own untrimmed claws that differed from the other femme's short neat ones.

She watched as both Soundwave and the femme interacted. Darkstrike was unable to hear if Soundwave used his voice to respond to the femme.

Did that mean that Soundwave mangled with every femme? Was Darkstrike another ordinary femme that Soundwave liked grabbing? _What did you expect? He's a powerful Gladiator after all. You don't expect him to stay to you, do you? _Her processor continued to snap at her, expanding her ire, regardless of what sadness her spark contained.

Multiple questions arose in her processor. Was she just another courtesan for Soundwave to use? If he got bored... would he discard her? Was she no one to him? Did she honestly mean nothing to him? Darkstrike didn't like thinking she was insignificant to him... she actually thought Soundwave was interested in -helping- her...

_It was pity. He doesn't care about you. _Her shoulders sagged and she clenched the piece of the obstacle tight in her servos. Her claws dug into the metal.

Who was the femme anyway? That femme didn't have the right to go waltz around the arena, talking to who she wished to! Darkstrike didn't care if that femme was a Brightplate; it made her despise her more. Darkstrike also didn't care if she didn't know her! Something about the femme grind her gears the wrong way.

She'd find out who the femme proclaimed herself to be.

Darkstrike inched closer to the scene, narrowing her optics, scowling.

The other femme casually raised her servo up at Soundwave before turning around. She seemed to be reaching out for her datapad.

Darkstrike noticed a mech stare at the femme before suddenly doubling his efforts in his training. She obviously wasn't going to find out any information by eavesdropping, so she might as well ask.

Darkstrike walked closer to the mech.

"Hey," she called out. The mech perked up to look in her direction only to realize that it was only her. He frowned and grunted as he looked away, returning to his earlier task. Darkstrike deadpanned. She gave him a scowl before impulsively throwing the obstacle at his helm. Outraged, the mech turned around to glare at the femme.

"Hey!" she called out. The mech scowled at her.

"What d'you want?!" he asked in an undignified manner. Seeing as she had his attention Darkstrike walked closer to him.

"Who's that femme?" she asked pointing at the femme who scrolled down her datapad. The mech smirked.

"That's Airachnid. The owners hire her to come chose a mech to sponsor. She usually chooses insectibots, but she occasionally chooses other skilled mechs." the mech said. So this is why she was talking to Soundwave.

"Oh," Darkstrike perked up. The mech misinterpreted this.

"Don't get your hopes up. She hardly regards us mechs, much less you; a femme," he said. Darkstrike rolled her optics and went to pick up the piece of the obstacle.

"Thanks," she mumbled. The mech grunted in response.

This could explain a lot of things, though it still didn't pacify Darkstrike. That femme actually though that Soundwave would let her sponsor him? H-he, h-he _wouldn't_! No! Soundwave just _couldn't_!

Raw jealously filled Darkstrike as "Airachnid" showed Soundwave the datapad. While Soundwave's attention terrified her, Darkstrike was so accustomed to be the main femme he interacted with! He was supposed to be frightening only to _her_! Not to any other femme! Her processor was in a fritz as the emotions from her spark surpassed all logical thought.

Airachnid wore a smirk Darkstrike couldn't trust, and she was a little to close to the mech that was-

_Was_ _what_?

_What was she thinking?_

Stupid Airachnid was making her think of all of this. She didn't even know the femme.

_Not yet, at least. _

Out of a fit of anger, Darkstrike held the obstacle in one servo, and propelled it at a fast speed towards the femme. The piece of metal collided with Airachnid's datapad, the device instantly falling from her servos, causing it to shatter near her pedes. Tiny pieces scattered and made music as it hit the floor.

Both Soundwave and Airachnid snapped their helms towards her direction. Darkstrike's optics widened, seeing as she got caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. Her servos closed and she sheepishly laughed.

"Apologies..." she mumbled. Airachnid scoffed and brushed over the broken pieces of datapad. She glared daggers at Darkstrike.

"Oh look at what you did! All my information was stored in here! The nerve!" Airachnid fumed, "Don't they usually have a leash on the harlots of these areas? You shouldn't play with toys that don't belong with you," Airachnid snapped. Darkstrike stepped back, taken aback at the sudden indignity she felt. The insult burned in and caused her cheeks to heat up in mortification. The offense struck her pride hard.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention," Darkstrike paused, "_Brightplate_." Airachnid's optics widened at her audacity. Oh, it felt good to say it. She scowled at Darkstrike. The flier knew it was completely uncalled for. Airachnid had done nothing to her, but Darkstrike couldn't explain why she felt so satisfied in doing wrong.

"And just what are _you_ doing in this arena?! These parts of the arena are prohibited from other Cybertronians. Just who do you think you are?" the femme asked her. Darkstrike watched as Soundwave picked up the piece of the obstacle. He returned the metal in a fast throw. Darkstrike expertly caught it with a servo, her optics never leaving from Airachnid's.

"I'm just a Gladiator training." she responded. Darkstrike then turned to Soundwave. She smirked at him but said nothing.

"Would it be too much trouble for you to train _elsewhere_?" the smaller femme snapped.

"Of course, not at all." Darkstrike remarked curtly before tuning around to leave, her anger completely gone.

* * *

**Two Cycles Later**

Darkstrike sat in her room, bored out of her processor. There absolutely nothing to do. She frowned at her ceiling. Her sharp armor was probably not the best for her already worn out berth. It was not the first time she dully laid on her berth.

The femme had not been in the arena long enough to leave the Pits and explore Kaon. The city was rumored to be very... rambunctious. Unfortunately, she hadn't ever gotten to explore it because when she had arrived to the city, mechs chasing her, evidently causing her to end up in the Gladiatorial arenas.

Plus, Darkstrike needed to pay the fee to leave, even if it was only for a cycle. She didn't have much currency, and she was saving it for an upgrade. So, she was forced to stay in her room. The dark-armored femme was weary of training, and she didn't have another battle until a few cycles.

There was nothing to.

Soundwave had been busy training as well. He had a fight soon, and even Darkstrike understood why she hadn't had any recent encounters with the mech. She almost wanted to go see him. Darkstrike stood up from her berth, but shook her helm.

She was truly bored if she was coming to these conclusions.

She hadn't seen him since her 'accident' with Airachnid. Darkstrike bit her lip, wondering what exactly Soundwave thought of it. He might of not cared, or it might have entertained him. Perhaps Soundwave was even mad! Darkstrike might have ruined his chances to getting sponsored.

Her spark dropped at the realization. Now she most definitely did not want to see him.

Either way, it was getting late for Soundwave to be up. He probably had better things to do anyways.

Who knew that there were days even in the Pits when there was lethargy. The femme stood up and approached her door. She needed a bit of some company. Perhaps she would even engage in a conversation with Magnesium.

Medium sized wings stretched from her back as she strode down the corridors. The energon room wasn't far away from her room, and the closer she traveled to it, the louder it seemed to get. Darkstrike didn't know why there were mechs in there. From what she knew, energon was not served at this late joor.

There were loud cheers and even... singing. The mechs seemed to be chanting a tune. How strange. Even for them.

Seeking to solve the mystery, she entered the room.

Darkstrike was met with the sight of mechs jumping all over the place. There were countless objects being thrown back and forth, and the flier had to even duck to avoid them. She gave Magnesium a befuddled expression from across the room. He seemed to be in the cheerful mood to as he laughed and even threw his own datapad in the air.

Darkstrike caught it before it hit the ground. She approached him, completely puzzled with the already strange mechs. They were so ebullient... exuberant... energetic.

"Magnesium, what is going on?" she asked, setting the datapad down. He gave her a crooked smile. _Weird_. Darkstrike flinched at this.

"O-owners received high grade and they rewarded us, cause we're _extraordinary_!" he said passing out on the counter. His faceplates slammed onto the metal. Darkstrike slightly flinched back. She shook his shoulder in hopes of making him come online again.

"Magnesium?" she asked. A nano-klik later he rebooted and jumped up, managing to startle Darkstrike again.

"And yeah every gets energon!" he exclaimed. He rushed back and slammed a few more cubes on the counter. "Here! On the house...er... Pit?" he questioned as he passed out again.

"Magnesium...?" No response.

"Ugh, you're overcharged." Darkstrike groaned. She looked at all the energon cubes and quickly snatched them up, storing it all in her subspace. She would save up her energon ration and be a little more astute than all the other mechs there.

They all clumsily threw their fists in the air, constantly patting their comrade's shoulders. They all acted as if they had known each other since they were created.

Darkstrike did not want to take part in the foolishness of the mechs. She began making towards the door. However, she was quickly noticed.

"Hey! Blackstrike! Where d'ya think you're goin'? You haven't even had a drink!" a voice yelled. She froze in her tracks.

The obnoxious voice made her double take.

It was RocketShield.

By the looks of it, he was overcharged as well.

Darkstrike turned around to face him with a lifted optic ridge.

"No thanks. I'd rather not indulge." she replied. He laughed at her, making her optics widen in alarm. His overcharged laugh was much different from his smug one.

"Of course! You don't want to, cause you're a Brightplate. And Brightplates especially can't handle high grade like all us m-mechs!" he challenged. Darkstrike froze again. All of the other mechs around her seemed to have heard his rebuttal and yelled. Some shouted for her to accept his challenge, and others because of RocketShield's 'witty' response.

Would she let herself be bested by this mech or would she walk away and save herself from the humiliation? Darkstrike didn't need to stoop so low to prove herself. Soundwave probably wouldn't even think twice on what to do. _But he isn't here... and I'm still bored. _

Darkstrike deadpanned.

"Give me one."

* * *

_"Transformers! More than meets the optic!" _Darkstrike continually sang. _"Primus wage the battle to destroy... the evil forces of _Unicron_!"_ It was an old song that her creator had sung to her as a sparkling.

It was the first tune she could think of.

Primus. RocketShield sure knew how to intake large amounts of high grade. Darkstrike would give him credit for that if he wasn't such an aft. He was actually a lot more tolerable when overcharged. Unfortunately, Darkstrike didn't expect this to affect his true personality when he was reverted back to normal.

The first cube of high grade was bitter. It had been a while since Darkstrike last consumed it. However, the more she drank, the sweeter the liquid began to taste on her glossa. It turned a few systems in her frame, and lifted her mood considerably. It made her jittery and impulsive. Darkstrike did the first thing her processor could think of. If the idea wasn't crazy, then it was thrown into the scrap yard.

Darkstrike leaned her helm back as she attempted to devour the cube all in one try. The mechs around her made a great amount of noise, encouraging her to succeed. When Darkstrike finished, she discarded the cube behind her. She grinned, revealing her denta.

"Is that enough fr'you mechs? Or you want this f-femme to go a few more rounds...? Cause I can!" she exclaimed loudly. The mechs burst out in loud gruff yells. Darkstrike raised her wings in pride. This was a rare action; her wings were hardly ever raised, but her excitement could not be contained.

She was finally beginning to feel like another Gladiators among them. It was a highly satisfying feeling. Darkstrike raised her claws and laughed as the mechs roughly patted her shoulder.

Darkstrike had been rambling along with the mechs and even beginning songs for them to finish. It was a crazy experience Darkstrike would probably regret. She currently stood on the table throwing the energon cubes to see how many each mech could catch.

That was, until a servo began sneaking up her leg. Darkstrike was abruptly broken out of the mood she was in when she suddenly glared at the mech who was causing this. It was RocketShield. She snarled at him, jumping off the table.

"Servos ta yourself, 'Shield!" she growled.

"Oh c'mon! Ya not gonna let me taste the energon on you?" he asked with a sly smile. Darkstrike frowned.

"Ey! I think Rocket here has needs a few more cubes! He's still talkin' nonsense!" she yelled. RocketShield was grabbed by all the mechs as one of them forced a cube to his mouth.

Darkstrike took this opportunity to slip out through the crowd. The femme knew she was done with their partying. She stumbled out of the energon room, in no way ready to handle her overcharged state. Darkstrike had no experience with this, and the rest of the night would definitely be rough.

Darkstrike staggered though the corridors a sudden new emotion overcoming her. That idiotic RocketShield dare try something with her? In the state she was in?!

_How slick could he get?_

She was not a fragging pleasure bot! How many times had she have to win a slagging fight for him to realize?! Apparently, more than she already had. It made her seethe with fury.

Her mood easily drifted from jovial to livid.

"I'll show those f-fraggers!" Darkstrike gritted her denta, "No-! I-I did show them! They thought they could take advantage of _me_?! Ha! They'll have to look for a pretty desperate and dignity-less femme b-before thinking that they c-could frag me!" Darkstrike rambled.

She sighed.

Deep inside in the saner part of her processor, Darkstrike realized how low she had dropped at the moment. She was overcharged... which was low for her. It was pretty pathetic that she had degraded herself to an overcharged femme. Though, somewhere in the back of her processor, she didn't care.

She didn't resist. The affects of the high-grade energon were too inviting for Darkstrike to reject. At this point, she would take anything to release her pent-up frustration -with the exception of interface.

So in the end, Darkstrike was easily slurred by the powerful effects of high grade energon. It was true; the liquid _did_ influence Darkstrike, but in her defense, it made it easier to lighten the mood.

Her inner thoughts were easy to release; it felt nice to finally speak of all that she hated in that place. It made her spark content. So, why stop?

Darkstrike continued to stagger through the hallways, taking twice as many steps to prevent from swaying too far. She walked to the left, then began to lean right, before going back to left, starting the process all over again. It wasn't until she crashed into the wall that it stopped.

"Ugh, frag this. I'm going to my room." Darkstrike stated passing the halls.

Unbeknownst to her, she wasn't the only one in the corridors.

* * *

What an interesting sight; the femme that worked hard to win her battles, was now under the influence of mere energon. He was disappointed with this, but didn't particularly do anything about it. This was femme's choice; she could deal with it herself. If she stupid enough to get herself in this state, then she should be smart enough to get herself out of it.

Soundwave watched as the femme stumbled out of the specific room. He made sure to avoid going nearing the loud and boisterous sounds. Soundwave was aware of the energon party the other Gladiators were having. Though, he usually didn't really partake in such festivities.

_Why?_

Well, why should he?

Soundwave didn't like any of the mechs; he only tolerated Megatronus. The others were arrogant slaggers. He wasn't complaining though, he could put up with them because of the circumstances (or to an extent) but when high-grade energon was added, a line was drawn.

Soundwave wasn't going to be a hypocrite though. He did take one or two drinks, though he refused to consume more, thanks to prior experience. It seemed that the femme was about to learn that also. Soundwave, while walking around the corridors, happened to catch a glimpse of Darkstrike. He had heard her argue to herself, and he was less-than surprised to hear the things she had to say. She certainly had a 'colorful' Cybertronian vocabulary.

He had watched as she stumbled and nearly tripped on her pedes. Her long legs were become more of a hassle than an advantage at the moment.

Darkstrike leaned on a wall, before her forearm slipped. Her claws measly flew through the air, easily scratching the wall. The femme would most likely end up injuring herself with her own weaponry. What a disappointment.

Though, Soundwave didn't pay too much interest. After all, it was the femme's own choice to do what she'd like, regardless of the outcome.

In spite of himself, he approached her. Soundwave made sure to stay silent as he crept up behind her.

Darkstrike didn't notice his presence immediately. She only continued to compose herself and continue forward.

"Ugh, slag. Where the _frag _is my room? You'd fragging expect these Pits to be easy to get around, but I don't even remember where I recharge!" Darkstrike rambled. Her pedes twisted in a certain angle as she didn't pay attention towards where she was going. Just as she was about to fall on her faceplates, Soundwave's long arm shot out, fingers attaching to her waist.

Darkstrike yelped loudly and her optics widened as red orbs locked with a visor. Soundwave firmly held her in place by her waist, ignoring Darkstrike's expression of discomfort. Her venting began slightly hitching at the contact.

Soundwave's spark began to feel as if it was glitching at touching her again... at having her this close to himself. He didn't like it.

"Soundwave!" she exclaimed. Her claws wrapped around his arm to break free of his steel grip. "W-what the frag are you doing...?!" she asked loudly. His tight hold loosened on her waist. As his digits slid away, the feel of it elicited a shiver from Darkstrike. Her optics instantly cleared and turned in his direction. Red optics didn't leave his visor.

Only a few nano-kliks later did he realize that she was staring at him. Soundwave did the same.

They silently stared at each other. He refused to look away before she did. He would keep the gaze for as long as necessary. Unfortunately, this didn't stop Darkstrike. She continued to stare at his visor; at the reflection that showed.

"What d-do you _hide_ behind that _visor_?" she asked aloud, her words mixing together, making it a bit difficult to understand what she spoke. Soundwave lifted his helm, almost viewing her as a potential threat. The femme didn't seem to realize, most likely because of the energon effects. He straightened his posture and looked down at her in an intimidating way. Darkstrike saw the obvious stance and backed up, holding out her forearm for defense.

His servo clenched in a tight fist. Soundwave almost took her words as a threat. He prepared to strike vulnerable areas. Darkstrike looked out-of-place, and unsure of what to do next.

Soundwave shook his helm, letting the subject go. It didn't matter; Darkstrike was too much of a fool to see her own actions or notice her own words. He turned his helm, attentive of any possible mechs arriving to the scene. There was no one. They were probably still in the other room enjoying themselves. He was alone with the femme.

Soundwave glanced back at Darkstrike, who was attempting to compose herself. She seemed to exaggerate her movements as she brushed herself off. She threw him a side glare, but when he turned to look at her, she cowered back.

He stepped closer to her.

Soundwave was curious on what Darkstrike had to think about him when she was influenced by energon. Maybe he would find out her true opinions of him, not that reading her thoughts didn't give it away, but Soundwave wanted to be exact. He slowly raised his servo and placed it on her hip. Darkstrike yelped right away, her blue blush increasing more.

There was also the fact that Soundwave enjoyed the femme's fear. He relished in the fact that he frightened her, yet through the manipulation of his actions, he could entice the femme easily at the same time.

The femme also owed him an explanation for the events with Airachnid. He'd made sure not to forget about that.

"Oh Primus..!" she shrieked. Soundwave pulled her hip and brung her closer to himself, only a small distance before they actually pressed together. "Slag, S-Soundwave! Why do y-you always do this?" her words slurred.

His optics narrowed from behind his visor.

"Clarify." he commanded. Another shiver ran through her, and her optics closed shut for the nano-klik. They automatically reopened to look at him.

"Well... uh.. umm..." Darkstrike looked away, appearing flustered. Soundwave only continued to stare at her, pressuring Darkstrike to answer. She bit her lip. Then, her optics narrowed, and she turned directly at him.

"You're fragging attractive!" she blurted out, blue once again staining her faceplates. Soundwave froze for a klik. The femme was certainly more straight-forward than usual. This was something he was not -entirely- expecting. It was true, he knew that femme was fond of him (for some bizarre, unknown reason,) but he wasn't aware that she found him aesthetically pleasing. He _never_ took off his visor, and if he did, it would be in his own privacy, never in front of the femme. He wanted to know _how_ she found him attractive.

They were Gladiators; appearance wasn't necessarily the most important thing on their list when they were trying to dodge fatal blows. Soundwave bought his other servo and held the other side of her hip. He roughly pulled her closer to himself.

"Query: Attractive?" he asked in a demanding one. Darkstrike's venting began to become more audible. Her claws were pressed against his chassis.

"Oh P-primus... You're so _demanding_." she muttered, her optics narrowing nervously. The femme in front of him continued to mumble inaudible and slurred words, and her frame was getting hotter by the nano-klik.

If she didn't calm down, she would fall offline. Soundwave would not be the one to take her back to her quarters... or even pick her up from the floors if she fell.

"Darkstrike: Showers." he stated. Her dazed optics turned to look at him.

"Yes... do you mind taking me to them... my processor seems be... malfunctioning." Darkstrike pleaded. Soundwave could have rolled his optics, but he refrained from doing so. He let go of her hip and began to drag her forearm with only one of his servos. He quickly walked down the corridors.

"High-grade energon: Dangerous." he said. Darkstrike frowned and lowered her optics in defeat.

"Yes, yes but it's better than putting up with these slagging glitches while sober. T-true, it wasn't the most brightest of d-decisions," she spoke. Soundwave analyzed her words, but didn't respond. He was unaware of the femme's honest response and it briefly made him consider if he was talking to a Cybertronian with a higher intelligence than the other mechs around him. The chances were slim since she was overcharged, and he highly doubted it.

When they arrived to the showering-room, Soundwave opened the door and led Darkstrike in. Her cooling fans began to go on high as the intense heatwave the hit her. This was one of the effects of over-consuming energon...

She let out a frustrated groan. Darkstrike then began to do something he didn't expect. She began to strip herself of her armor. Every large piece of dark-colored armor was removed. Soon enough, her shoulders, forearms, abdominal, and slim long legs were exposed to him. The only armor remaining was of her chassis and mid-regions. As the pipes spluttered, Darkstrike didn't hesitate to push herself in.

She moaned as her temperature began to decrease considerably. Soundwave watched, very intrigued, almost transfixed at her moving figure. Her most vulnerable areas were openly exposed to him. Her curvaceous figure was completely open to his optics. The light-grey creamy proto-form was burned into his processor.

He quickly looked away. He refused to give in to this... this pitiful _attraction _he held for the overcharged femme. He could have easily taken advantage to either permanently extinguish her spark, or... try something else. Although, it technically wouldn't be considered taking advantage of her when the femme bluntly admitted being drawn to him, in more ways than one.

However, Soundwave didn't think she was worth of that time. He had more self-respect than to fall under those degrading desires.

As soon as the pipes stopped flowing with oil, Darkstrike turned around. Her servos were placed on her knees as she vented softly. The femme slowly came to a realization.

She looked at her armor that lay next to Soundwave's pedes. Darkstrike loudly groaned and clenched her denta. Soundwave noticed her bright blush. She walked over to him, arms firmly wrapped around herself. Soundwave was not able to keep his optics from discretely roaming up and down her frame.

Darkstrike was unmindful of his enigmatic gaze. She began to pick up pieces of her armor, and quickly trying attaching them on herself. Her arms shook as she skittishly glanced up at Soundwave. His presence seemed to be intimidating her. Fear and embarrassment quickly began melting into her red optics.

"S-stop!" Darkstrike blurted out. Soundwave didn't respond, but intensified his stare.

"Negative: Reasons unjustified." he stated. Darkstrike nearly slipped as her armor came on. Her optics narrowed in hesitation.

"What d'you have to stare at?" she asked. He decided to respond with actions rather than trivial words. His arm inconspicuously traveled closer to the femme that had suddenly ducked her gaze.

Soundwave reached out to her upper tight, his fingers stroking across it. Darkstrike yelped and trembled under his servo. He quickly changed this gentle nature when he roughly placed the armor on her, the amount of force pushing Darkstrike back. She stumbled back, completely shocked. He knew what he femme was expecting, but he refused to give it to her.

He had her right under his servo; exactly where he wanted.

Darkstrike landed on her aft, the loud metal crash echoing across the room. Her optics looked up at Soundwave. She growled and glared at him.

"See! You've this g-great affect on me, and you completely use it t'your advantage, and the worst part is, it makes me l-like ya more! Well, go to the Pit, Soundwave!" she exclaimed, her processor unable to aid her in pronouncing the words correctly. Darkstrike crossed her arms, and huffed furiously on the floor.

Soundwave looked down at her and began to approach. Darkstrike noticed his pede-steps. Her expression lowered into a frightened one. She recoiled away from him.

"Oh, slag." she said, holding her arms out to protect herself. Soundwave grabbed her arm and lifted her up. He didn't have to use much of his strength to lift her weight. Darkstrike was soon flung over his shoulder. Soundwave completely ignored the fact that his armor was probably denting and puncturing the femme's armor. She squirmed and kicked, only making Soundwave's servos clutch her thighs so that she didn't move. This action must have startled her, as he felt her flinch. He exited the room, ignoring Darkstrike's cries of protest.

"Frag you, Soundwave!" she exclaimed. Luckily, the femme was so preoccupied, she forgot that her claws were still available to use. His servos mockingly brushed across her aft, causing Darkstrike to shiver and jump. It was sign that he did not take her threats seriously, to show that he was completely in control. It was his way of showing that he was dominant.

"Or why don't y-you just frag me?!" she sarcastically challenged. Soundwave glanced up at her, but didn't reply. The femme's faceplates turned blue with her irritation. She gave a long, loud frustrated groan as she let herself drop limp on his shoulders. The femme wasn't that smaller than him compared to other femmes, but at least she happened to be easier to carry... when she wasn't struggling.

Her arms dangled for a moment, and she became silent. It was like that for a few kliks... and it was beginning to make him suspicious. He had taught himself to always be alert, more-so in the quiet moments. Soundwave turned his helm to see her. When he saw her glare directed towards the floor, he continued walking.

"W-where're we goin'..?" she mumbled.

"Darkstrike's room." he stated.

"Ughhh, I don't e-even want to go there a-anymore," Darkstrike complained. He didn't respond, seeming to exasperate Darkstrike. "Grr.. I'll j-just get out of there anyway, so there's no p-point in taking me there!" she proclaimed. Soundwave stopped.

The femme had a valid point. Her only mistake was admitting it him.

What use was there in returning her to her chambers if she just were to leave? It would have only been a waste of his effort.

Perhaps there was an efficient way of preventing this from happening...

It wasn't that cared for the femme, even for a klik... he only held pity for the ridiculous sight. Caring was something only higher-castes did. His caste, however, only thought of '_care'_ as ludicrous. This was something he thoroughly supported; caring or affection made no sense to him. It was a waste of time.

Soundwave's reasoning was that he had already put in effort in helping her this far in the Pits, why should he let that work go to waste? That would be his joors of his wasted time. He did not want any useless actions bothering him, and the stupid femme was most vulnerable in _this_ state. Darkstrike was imprudent at this point, and the way her claws were flung only further proved his point.

He suddenly felt a sharp point scrape up his back, making him become alert. He snapped his helm back, and saw Darkstrike trailing her claws in the seams of his back armor. She seemed transfixed at the bio-lights he hid under his armor. While he did like the lines that trailed over his body, he preferred that no one touched them.

Least of all, the femme.

"Darkstrike: Cease." he commanded. Her optics held the smirk her lips didn't pertain. Darkstrike continued to draw smooth, slow lines on his back. Soundwave tightened his hold on her, in an almost painful manner, even through the armor she had on. He stiffened and ignored the strange sensation his spark was feeling.

She winced and let her arms hang again.

It only took a few more steps before they arrived at a door. Soundwave typed in the pass code, and the door hissed opened. He didn't bother with grace, and threw the femme at his berth.

Darkstrike abruptly composed herself and stood up. She looked frantically around his room, taking in her surroundings.

"Where'm I?" she asked.

"Soundwave's chambers." he responded. She looked directly at him, the same blush returning. Darkstrike's optics widened largely, desperation filling them. Her long legs pressed together, and arms wrapped protectively around herself. He realized what she must have inferred.

"No escape. Order: Recharge." he stated. This helped lessen the femme's tense frame, but she still seemed to remain wary. Instead of obeying him, like she should have done, she stared again. Soundwave preferred her stupidly innocent blush than this insipid staring.

She continued to look at him, a mix of fear, curiosity, and confusion in her optics.

"Your query?" he asked, no emotions present. The femme suddenly became skittish.

"Well... uh... I... want t-to see you take off your visor." she stuttered. Soundwave's optics widened slightly behind his visor before he automatically glared at her. She dare ask more of him? She didn't have the right of doing so, and she was lucky he didn't do anything about it. He pointed towards the berth.

"Recharge: Now." he commanded. Darkstrike didn't argue further. She ungracefully flopped down on the berth on her front side. Her arms and legs stretched across his berth.

Her optics glanced at him before the slowly began to close.

He stared down at her, his ire slowly pacifying. He basked in the silence, for as long as it would last. The mech then decided to do something he thought he would not do. Soundwave pressed his fingers on the edge of his helm. It gave a click, before the visor removed completely. He set it down, and he approached the recharging femme. His red optics looked down at her in an unkind manner. The crimson color glowed and shone on his light grey faceplates. He watched as her chassis rose and fell as it pressed against the berth.

Soundwave narrowed his optics.

He could have sworn he saw traces of opened red optics.

* * *

**Longest chapter ever. I wasn't intending it to be this long, but I wanted to include all these events for a reason. Some events will allude to future conversations and events (hint, possibly next chapter.) **

**The rest of the chapters are sure to be 6-7K words, but not as long as this. If anyone dislikes the long chapters, I'll be willing to shorten them.**

**Also, here is my response to some of questions asked.**

**_Will Darkstrike use some her other assets in order to get out of a 'tight situation?'_**

**Darkstrike was originally going to show her feminine charm in her last battle, hence I even put "win at all costs" but I decided to take another route. I do have more planned, so rest assured, there will be more scenes coming up. Maybe not just yet, but soon.**

**_Will you have a headcannon in which Gladiators are allowed to leave the arena to go to other parts of Cybertron?_**

**This question is half answered this chapter.**

**Also, yes I am well aware that Megatronus and Orion were friends, and they are friends in this part of the story, I just haven't done Megatronus' perspective to show it. Although, Darkstrike hardly knows Megatronus so her meeting Orion is not coming just yet. (Or is it?)**

**_Will you include the Terror Twins as Gladiators from G1?_**

**Will Sideswipe and Sunstreaker be here? I'm not sure. I already have other characters that I'm planning on bringing from Prime. Though, all with patience. :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yes, I know I'm slag. I haven't updated in 2 months and I sincerely apologize. I will decide not to tell you all my excuses. However, I will definitely not leave this story, as I have become very interested in it. I apologize, I know I'm slag, and I will make up for it somehow. Please forgive. **

**Questions-**

**_Will Darkstrike's time be able to be bought by others?_ **

**She would not be able to be bought unless she agrees, or the buyer offers a large sum of cash to bribe the owners.**

_**How long is this before? (Or Darkstrike's age)**_

**The war is not far, but not exactly soon either. More scenes will take place in the Golden Age. **

**Darkstrike is still very young, even more than Soundwave. However, in my story, certain types of mechs and femmes age slower than other, them having a longer lifespan as well. **

_**Won't Darkstrike's creators notice her sudden fame in the Pits?**_

**Actually no, Darkstrike is from another place on Cybertron and not native to Kaon, so her creators are oblivious. **

* * *

**Perilous- _full of danger or risk_**

**Swap paint- _A slang term for cuddling, snogging, bonding, etc. (Transformers canon term)_**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Soundwave hardly recharged that night. The femme's presence constantly bothered him for joors into the night. Even if she wanted to recharge, she had taken his berth. Soundwave would not recharge in the same berth with the femme simply because he found the suggestion absurd.

Soundwave rather do more interesting things rather than to recharge or swap paint. Though not with this femme. The mech rather not get involved anymore than he already had.

Soundwave observed the way the femme hardly moved on his berth. He also took notice of a slight scar on her wings. There were scratches and dents, but the scar stood out the most. The femme had her own collection of wounds on herself, making her distinguishable from any other femme that visited the Pits.

Soundwave shook his helm.

What did it matter if she was distinguishable? As long as Darkstrike proved her worth, it was all that mattered to Soundwave. Even then, it didn't matter as much.

He gazed at her frame without his visor. The femme had knocked out. There was no way she would online any time soon. Soundwave predicted that she'd wake up in a few joors, as lost and clueless as a sparkling. He would take advantage of every single klik of the moment.

Soundwave had not been this entertained since he had begun to move up in the ranks. There was the occasional courtesan that came to the arenas, but those were faces he hadn't ever bothered to remember.

Speaking of faceplates, the femme sure seemed interested in seeing his. He would definitely not humor the idea. Soundwave never understood the concept of aesthetic beauty. That meant his face would remain a mystery to her and everyone in the Pit.

So then the femme would continue tracing the steps to his "intentions" as she liked to call it. Darkstrike would dance in the steps he was leaving for her, only for her to realize that she was getting nowhere, dancing only in circles.

He would befuddle the femme even more, ask questions on her imprudent behavior, (possibly grope her,) and maybe even bring up the subject of Airachnid.

Ah yes... the incident with Airachnid.

Soundwave was less-than grateful towards Darkstrike for her actions. She had prevented him from getting sponsored from the vexatious femme. She constantly irked Soundwave with her bothersome promises. All of them were lies. He could clearly see it from the slick smirk she held, and the glint in her optics. Her vocals emitted words that would manipulate any other foolish, desperate mech. Unbeknownst to Airachnid, Soundwave was neither. If she took him for an idiot, she would have to think again.

That cycle, it was clear that Airachnid would not leave until he agreed for her to sponsor him. Soundwave knew how all of this worked. He had been in the Pits long enough. They promised him more energon coins when in reality, it was them that gained more and the Gladiator themselves end up losing more currency than earned. Besides, Soundwave had enough rank that he had no need for any sponsors. He made more than triple than a low ranking Gladiator. Which still wasn't much, but it was more.

He had silently rejected Airachnid's offer many times before, by this point he was close to using words.

That was, until Darkstrike had interluded, successfully interrupting their talk. Of course he had seen the femme from afar, but he hadn't expected her to have actually responded with actions. Soundwave had been too infuriated that he had not bothered to listen Darkstrike's thoughts. So then the unexpected happened.

The moment Airachnid's datapad had shattered was the moment Soundwave's anger had died down. Darkstrike had been angry about something. However, any traces of the thoughts had vanished from her mind before he was able to read them.

Then came _Airachnid's_ anger. He had never seen the femme so... undignified. Her usually slick and calm facade had melted, revealing the true untrustworthy nature of the femme. How delighted he had been that Darkstrike had caused this. He had been pleasantly surprised at the Gladiator femme's passive aggressive tone.

It seemed that something in Airachnid had sparked an audacity in Darkstrike that RocketShield didn't. Whatever it was, Soundwave found great pleasure in it. The femme Gladiator had concluded their little spat of remarks, leaving Airachnid in a dark mood.

He knew that the spider femme had been surprised at the silent exchange between him and Darkstrike. Perhaps this was the hint the spiderbot needed. After that, Arachnid had ended their possible agreement and left the arena. She had attempted to melt back into her sultry mask, but Soundwave could see right through it.

Soundwave wouldn't thank Darkstrike for her actions, but at the very least her actions had pleased him. He'd confront the femme about it when she onlined. He would find out what her "_intentions_" were. True, he wasn't expecting her to tell him directly, but her thoughts would be easy to read when he'd bring up the topic.

Momentarily forgetting about that, he turned his attention back to his blueprints.

Best he stop thinking about it now. There were more important things to concentrate on.

Soundwave looked at the datapad that held the information to construct his drone. This time, he would remain focused. Again, the femme had managed to infect his thoughts.

True, she was more interesting than most Gladiators there, but that gave no justification for constantly thinking about her.

Soundwave only spent a kliks looking at his datapad before his visor-less faceplates wandered to the femme's sleeping form.

She hadn't taken her armor off, but he still skimmed the femme's frame. He had already caught her staring at his frame, and Soundwave couldn't see why he wasn't allowed to do the same.

If Soundwave was any other mech in Kaon, he would have taken her. Nevertheless, he wasn't. He could have done so at any time he wanted. He wasn't a gentlemech, that wasn't the reason that was stopping him.

The mech slammed his datapad on the counter.

It would be the humiliation of admitting he was lust-hungry for her. He certainly had more self-control than many mechs. Soundwave didn't fall into the trap those bots did. There simply more important things to do.

Again his thoughts had drifted. This was a minor set back. It didn't bother him much. The Gladiator knew that he occupied her thoughts more than the other way a round. He would not let it happen again because after all, she had been the one to initiate this little game they both played.

* * *

Before Darkstrike even opened her optics, she felt it.

The painstaking processor-ache.

It was a constant crash in her helm that seemed to reverberate sound waves all at once. It caused her to groan aloud. Her optics clenched shut, hoping that it would go away.

It didn't.

Darkstrike pulled a servo to clutch her helm.

What did she _do_ last night?

She quickly searched her processor to find the memories stored. Darkstrike revisited the images, all alluding to when she had entered the energon room. The images from the night before began to unravel.

Every single klik from the cycle before began to become pristine as glass.

High grade energon.

Festivities.

Singing.

Ire.

Wandering.

Encounter.

Actions.

_oundwave_.

Darkstrike remembered how she had shown her protoform to him. Her spark burned with embarrassment with the fact that she was so overcharged that Soundwave had to carry her back.

He had seen her stoop so low. Soundwave witnessed her foolish actions. Darkstrike felt humiliated. She felt like any other ordinary stupid femme, so indecent. She wanted to bury herself in the Pits. _So much for being Soundwave's equal_, her processor echoed. Darkstrike rudely told it to shut the frag up.

Another thought crept inside her processor. Last cycle, Soundwave's servo had drifted to many parts of her body. Darkstrike was irritated, half because he had taken the opportunity to grab her as always, and the other half because she hadn't been completely aware to experience the pleasant sensations.

Then his face... his face had lacked a visor when she has snuck one last glance at him. Darkstrike couldn't make up much, but she recalled red optics. _Those optics!_ There were a rich crimson, bright optics that burned deep into her processor. They were none other than Soundwave's. Her spark began to beat at a faster place.

Darkstrike lowered her servos to the berth. She immediately felt the smooth metal. It was strangely unfamiliar. She opened her red optics. The femme suddenly jumped up. She was met by another Cybertronian.

"Slag!" she shrieked. Darkstrike's excitable state caused her to fall of the berth. Her wings collided with the cold floor. She lied there, coming to a full realization. Darkstrike then held onto the berth for support. She slowly elevated her helm to peak over the edge of the berth. Her optics found Soundwave again. He was staring at her from a seat near his berth.

_Fool, pick yourself up,_ her processor told. Darkstrike composed herself and sheepishly smiled. Soundwave didn't remove his gaze from the femme. Regardless if his visor was on, Darkstrike could feel the stare.

She awkwardly stood there, avoiding to look directly at the mech. It was almost as his presence was unreal. The femme quickly shook her helm, wanting to take back the accusation. Soundwave might wind up handling her just to prove that he was tangible.

Speaking of the mech, he had begun to alleviate his gaze from her. He began reaching for a cube. This movement caught her attention. The mech threw the energon her way. Darkstrike extended her servo and stumbled to catch it.

The femme then remembered that she didn't need his offerings. Darkstrike had previously made sure to sneak some cubes in her subspace. She checked her subspace, only to realize that there was nothing in it.

The energon in her systems suddenly froze. Darkstrike gasped. Setting down her cube, she checked her subspace again.

"Where are my cubes?" she murmured to herself. Was it possible that she had drank them yesterday? No, that was impossible. She had stored them, and received the energon from other mechs.

Darkstrike looked up at Soundwave. The mech seemed to know what she was asking and pointed towards the counter. There were two datapads and multiple energon cubes on the surface. Her optics widened in surprise and a blue streak colored her faceplaces.

"You went through my subspace?!" she asked taken aback. Soundwave nodded. Darkstrike narrowed her optics at him. "Why?!" she asked bewildered.

"Weapons might have been at your disposal," he responded. Darkstrike huffed and plopped down on his berth. She took the energon he had given her and angrily sipped it. _Great_. That was supposed to have been her energon. Soundwave could very well take it away from her and she could do nothing about it.

What right did he have to go through her subspace? How would he like it if she went through his? Soundwave certainly wouldn't like that, he would surely take her violation of personal space as advances. The last thing Darkstrike wanted was more contact with him, and Soundwave getting the wrong idea.

"They will be mine if you do not collect them." Soundwave responded. Darkstrike quickly sprung up and scurried to get her cubes. She went for her datapads and she noticed Soundwave glance at them. One she had labeled "battle strategies," which was the one Soundwave had given her.

The other was labeled "wrecker." It was a datapad she had broken out of fury because her past mechfriend had betrayed her. Darkstrike only kept it as a fragment of her past. She hoped Soundwave hadn't paid much attention to the labels. Even if it wasn't his business, the femme couldn't take any judgement from the mysterious mech.

Quickly snatching it up, Darkstrike purposely left some energon cubes on the counter. Before Soundwave could remark, Darkstrike had beat him to it.

"It's for your troubles of allowing me to recharge in your chambers," Darkstrike replied. He nodded and continued to work on a device in his servos.

"I do apologize for enduring my behavior. It won't happen again," she said hastily, making a move to leave his chambers. She made a move to open his door, but it would not comply.

"What the? What's wrong with this?" Darkstrike questioned.

"Soundwave: Locked it," he responded.

"_What_?! Why?" she asked, increasingly getting nervous.

"Darkstrike will leave when earned." Soundwave responded.

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "What do you mean? _Earned_ it?! You-you can't do this! I have training!" The mech did not seemed alarmed at her rising anger. Darkstrike was about to rant about her rights... until she realized that she had none. Not in the Pits.

"No training today," he replied. Soundwave wasn't lying; the owners knew that all of the mechs would had probably gotten overcharged, and had today assigned as a free cycle.

"Are you- are you grounding me? You're keeping me _captive_!" Darkstrike exclaimed. Soundwave continued to work on the device in his servo. The femme attempted to open the door again. Much to her dismay, it was to no avail. She gritted her denta. The door endured multiple abuses from the femme's powerful kicks.

"How do you even lock it from the _inside_?!" she grumbled. Soundwave gestured to the multiple devices in his servos.

"Intelligence," he responded. Darkstrike vented in frustration. She turned around and sat down on the berth. Red optics glared at the floor.

"I hope you realize that this won't get me to interface with you." she mumbled frowning. Soundwave internally smirked. He found it comical that the femme's first thought of being his captive was interface.

Darkstrike, on the other servo was infuriated. She guessed that she somehow deserved this. The femme had dragged Soundwave into many of her scenes. Though, she didn't _ask_ Soundwave to help her, Darkstrike was only... glad that he did.

Anyways, what was it that she was supposed to do to get out? What exactly did he expect of her? She refused to be reduced to a pleasure bot to get out of his room. After all, she couldn't stay in there forever.

"How exactly do I earn my freedom?" she asked.

Soundwave didn't respond immediately.

Or kliks later.

In fact, it was like if she hadn't spoken at all. His quietude was beginning to make Darkstrike doubt herself. The thick silence felt like it cut off the circulation of her energon.

After what seemed like eternity, there was a response.

"Redeem yourself." he stated. _Why does he always speak in fragging riddles?! Just tell me._

"A-and how do I do that?" she hesitantly asked. Soundwave didn't respond this time. Darkstrike guessed that she would have to find out on her own.

Great, she was trapped in a room with the second-ranking Gladiator with no way to escape. How _wonderful_! As if being in public with him didn't already scare her, but being alone with the mech in his room? Primus might as well offline her there.

Darkstrike crossed her arms and looked away, features painted with frustration.

She sat down in silence, only hearing the small tweaks Soundwave made on a device. The clicks were minor, but in the empty room, they seemed to be getting more interesting.

Darkstrike wasn't one to become easily bored in mundane surroundings, but there was something about sitting on Soundwave's berth that made her feel awkward. The femme felt as if she had to do something, especially in Soundwave's presence.

Her audios enhanced with each klik, every time he made some sort of noise. Darkstrike attempted to hypothesize what it was he was fixing but couldn't quite place her claw on it. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, Darkstrike couldn't help but glance at Soundwave's work.

He seemed to know what he was doing. Darkstrike assumed he was an intelligent mech, but she never guessed that he was knowledgeable enough to create such complicated devices. Well... it seemed complicated, she wouldn't know unless she took a closer look. She slowly inched closer, curious optics peering over his shoulder.

The femme wasn't as clueless as others might have thought. Darkstrike also had her fair share of knowledge in education, hence her previous high-caste.

Her claws twitched as she leaned in closer to get a better look.

"Your query?" Soundwave asked, never looking away from his task. Darkstrike flinched back, a bit embarrassed. She looked down at her claws.

"N-no... I was simply interested," she mumbled. The mech didn't respond and went to grab his datapad. He tossed it near the femme. Darkstrike perked up when she saw it. She looked up at him questionably. Soundwave didn't regard her, but the femme was sure his intention was for her to grab it.

Darkstrike tapped on the screen, immediately making it light up. She saw that this datapad contained information to make something... Her optics only studied the brief summary. It contained enough information for her to comprehend but the words Darkstrike read surprised her.

Her optics widened. The was no ordinary device. These were blueprints to create something much more extravagant. The details were incredible. She marveled at the information it held. Every single of information amazed her. This was about a complex system she had learned about, but not able to recreate.

"You're constructing a drone!" she exclaimed. Soundwave dimly nodded. "Did-did you do this?" she asked. He nodded once more. She marveled at it. With her extensive knowledge, Darkstrike wanted to see if she could possibly aid the mech. This was something that definitely captivated her attention.

"Can I see what you have done so far?" she asked. Soundwave demonstrated the device in his servos. It was only the base, but despite this, Darkstrike was very impressed that he had gotten this far. She slowly traveled over to him, wary and careful of any possible actions. Darkstrike observed it but didn't dare take it into her own grasp.

"Can I assist you?" she nervously asked. Soundwave took the device away and regarded her warily.

"Your assistance: Not required," he stated, "Unnecessary." Darkstrike suddenly felt offended and embarrassed. She somehow had a feeling that he didn't think she had the same capability he did in constructing the drone.

"But it might help quicken the process, and I can search for any errors you might have." she interjected. Soundwave shook his helm.

"Unnecessary." he responded. Darkstrike looked away in embarrassment at being rejected. She bit her glossa.

She could help! She really could!

_Then show him._

Darkstrike grabbed onto the datapad. Soundwave didn't seem to interject her slight action and Darkstrike was grateful.

The femme sat onto the berth. Both Cybertronians stood silent, both enraptured in their own tasks. Darkstrike read the first page, and reread it for a good number of kliks. She made sure that her optics didn't miss a single symbol. Her processor formulated and connected all the pieces she had learned before. Plans begun formulating in her mind on how exactly she could advance in this.

It had been a while since Darkstrike had used her processor in this complex way, aside from practicing battle strategies. It felt refreshing, despite the ache she still felt in her processor.

When Darkstrike had revised the first page enough, she had set it down and traveled closer to Soundwave.

He hadn't looked up, but Darkstrike knew he had sensed her presence. Her optics flickered to Soundwave's servos and fingers. Darkstrike extended a servo towards it. However, before it could touch the device, Soundwave's servo shot out, attaching to her forearm. His visor tuned in her direction, and the femme could feel his cold gaze.

Darkstrike's optics widened. She slowly inched back. Soundwave stood up, walking forward as she did back. His servo didn't leave her wrist.

"Your intentions?" he asked threateningly. He must have been serious about the project.

Darkstrike frowned and looked down. The femme attempted to hide her gaze, and preferred to cower away instead of facing him like a true Gladiator. But slag it, Soundwave was no ordinary mech or Gladiator. Soundwave grabbed her chin and tilted it up.

"Speak."

Darkstrike bit her lip.

"I can be of assistance too! I am not as empty-processored as you may think." she retorted.

"Prove your statement,"

She hesitated before continuing.

"I have been revising your information. As stunning as it is, I noticed a flaw. You are building this drone to be a grounder. I believe that you should build it to be agile and lighter as an aerial mode. This could make for easy transportation as well," she replied. The femme handed him the datapad so he could read it more in depth.

Soundwave processed this information and went back to his seat. Darkstrike awkwardly stood there, wondering if he had heard her. A few nano-kliks went by. Again, the femme was doubting herself. He grabbed the datapad and threw it at her.

Darkstrike caught it, not before stumbling onto the berth so that she did not drop the device that held critical information.

She composed herself before looking at Soundwave questionably.

"Revise it. Confirm your intelligence again." he stated.

Darkstrike looked down and smiled slightly. She sat down on the berth grasping the datapad firmly.

The femme patiently went through as many pages as she could. That was how it was for a couple joors. Darkstrike noticed that there were many, many pages contained in the datapad. The femme knew she would not be able to go through it all in one cycle.

Although they had stayed silent, Darkstrike had made comments on the information she changed. There were a few crucial errors, but she made sure to rectify them.

She didn't talk much, but neither did Soundwave. Darkstrike was completely satisfied with this. The silence managed to calm her processor-ache, and made her spark somehow content. Perhaps it was the company she had lacked for the last couple of orns. It was quite a few lonley orns spent in her room... Maybe half a vorn now.

She didn't know, but at the moment didn't she care.

Silence made it easier to lessen her fear towards Soundwave. Darkstrike didn't know if he felt the same, but it didn't matter. At least he hadn't made move to touch her... yet. Darkstrike was in anticipation on when he would make his move. She knew he would.

Another thing that bothered her was that Soundwave hadn't given her the password to leave...

Darkstrike got up from the berth and began to stretch her joints. Her armor had been a bit cumbersome, but she refused to take it off... not after last night... not ever.

She traveled over to Soundwave again. She set the datapad down near him. He looked up at her.

"I haven't finished, but I have done a lot. I revised your work and did my best to correct and improve it. I hope you don't mind. I can return to continue... well, with your permission of course..." she sheepishly suggested.

Soundwave stood up and looked down at her.

"Query: Why return?" Soundwave asked.

Darkstrike looked away, blushing.

"I-I won't return if that's what you want," she said.

He repeated his question, his servo bringing her helm up to look at him. Darkstrike's optics widened.

"Well... I'm interested in aiding you with this. I believe that we can assemble a very efficient drone. Besides... I have not completely earned my freedom if I do not stay until it is done,"

He stood silent for a moment.

"Perspective of intel?" he asked. Darkstrike had to dwell on his question. _Perspective_? What did he mean?

"Clarification: Your opinion." Soundwave said. Darkstrike's optics widened.

How did he know that she needed a clarification? She inwardly shook her helm. He must have sensed her confusion. Darkstrike bit her glossa and slightly backed up. Soundwave followed her.

It caused her to press up against the wall, his servos gripping her sides. She blushed, but was too scared to grab or refuse Soundwave.

Surprisingly, she didn't feel repulse like when RocketShield had cornered her. There was something about Soundwave that obviously distinguished him.

Darkstrike, while finding his touches pleasing, was becoming weary of this all-too familiar process. It always seemed to happen when they was alone. He was being dominant over her, grabbing her as he pleased. The femme was tiring of it.

It was unfair...

It made her feel... inferior... submissive... Darkstrike despised submitting. It had already occurred multiple times, and the flier felt very frustrated with this. She cursed her fearful yet pleased spark.

Darkstrike wanted to see if he liked if she did the same, grabbing him without his consent.

"Soundwave! I am n-no pleasurebot," she complained, "I do not approve of these... _actions_!"

"Not a pleasurebot. Darkstrike: Gladiator," he responded. "Your words were confirmed to Airachnid."

Her optics widened greatly. The words died down on her glossa. Darkstrike was hoping he had forgotten about it. She tensed up in his hold. The wall behind her was the only support to go to.

"What was the motive for your violence? It was no incident" he interrogated. Her claws scraped on the wall behind her.

"It was a training accident. Those occur often." she said in self-defense. The femme narrowed her optics at Soundwave, in hopes that he did not get suspicious of her.

"Lies," he responded, tightening his hold on her. _Slag, he's onto me._

"Why else could I have thrown it? Enlighten me, what do you think my motives were?" Darkstrike said, wearing the facade of courage well. She knew it was a lie. But if she let him know that, she would lose. Darkstrike would let Soundwave win, and end up appearing stupid. The femme refused to lose. She refused to let this happen. It simply couldn't!

Soundwave stood silent.

Darkstrike was increasingly becoming nervous. There was no way he knew! He couldn't have been watching! Soundwave couldn't have decided whether Darkstrike was jealous or not. He wouldn't have been able to tell... There was no reason for him to think that.

Then again... she was absolutely pathetic for committing what she had done.

"Darkstrike: ...Jealous..." he stated. Her red optics widened in horror. Her spark began beating faster.

"N-no! That-that's preposterous! Why would I be jealous of her?!" Darkstrike asked, fighting back her blush. She glared up at his accusation. _How could he have possibly found out? It was almost as if he..._

"Jealousy over attention," Soundwave said. Darkstrike turned her helm. The mech lifted his servo and grabbed the femme's faceplates. His digits wrapped around the side of her helm where her audios lied, and his thumb spread across her chin. His fingers wrapped around the backside of her helm.

His hold lifted so that she looked at him. Darkstrike wasn't able to pull away this time.

"Over Soundwave's attention." he clarified. She wouldn't answer him. She _couldn't_ answer him. Soundwave pushed her helm roughly on the wall behind her. His digits traveled dangerously close to her neck, right where her energon circulated. He raised her helm up so that her neck was arched and exposed to him.

"Answer." he commanded.

"My answer to your assumption is no!" she exclaimed. Soundwave's thumb began on one of the energon circuits and he dug it in. The femme winced.

"Lies." he accused. Despite this, his voice held the same monotone Darkstrike recognized.

"You said to answer, you never specified to so with the truth or with a lie!" she cleverly remarked.

"Answer truthfully." he said. Darkstrike let out a frustrated vent.

"Why do you even care?!"

"Lies: Not appreciated,"

"What use is there to answer if you already know the answer?! Oh, you just enjoy tormenting me, don't you?" she snapped. To confirm this, Soundwave brushed his other servo over her aft. She shuddered at the sensation.

"Question: Not answered,"

"Fine then! Yes! I was jealous of that slagging femme!" she exclaimed, "Is that what you wanted to hear? Because you slagging heard it..." there was a slight growl, "How I dislike you sometimes,"

With her response, Soundwave removed his servo from her helm.

She felt defeated.

_It burns more because it is his fault! If he wasn't around me, I wouldn't have this stupid attraction for him. I don't even know if it's attraction. If Soundwave would mind his own business like every other Gladiator did, I wouldn't be pinned beneath him, bantering over such sensations he caused me. I ought to- to!-_

"What do you intend to do if I continue?" he asked.

Darkstrike froze. He did it again! It was almost if he always knew what was on her mind! This wasn't the first time either! Was he... _Impossible_! He _couldn't_! This mech was beginning to seem stranger and more enigmatic with every klik she spent with him. Its was all too quixotic to be true.

"Impossibilities: For simple-minded,"

Again, she began panicking. How was Soundwave doing that? He was reading her thoughts! B-but _how?_

There was silence; there seemed to be a preference for actions rather than words.

His digits traveled up to her waist. They brushed over her sensors. They traveled lower. Darkstrike blushed and her spark began acting up again.

"What are you doing?!"

He continued his actions.

"If you're looking for an injury, I can assure you that the one I had is already gone," she mumbled.

He gave her thigh a pat, as if tracing the spot he once touched. As if he was mocking her. His then servos then began roughly patting her upper frame and occasionally hips. It was as if he was searching for something... or just roaming her frame.

Neither should surprise her.

She glared up at him, tempted to grab his servos so that he could stop.

Then he stopped when he found it.

Her _subspace_.

He slipped a light substance in it. Soundwave's fingers lingered on the spot. He then backed up to his counter and continued working. He continued his task almost as if nothing had just happened between them... as if he hadn't just groped her.

Darkstrike stared at him, bewildered at his actions. Soundwave didn't seem to affected. The blush on her face easily shone on her silvery white faceplates. It took her a few kliks before she had enough courage to reach into her subspace.

In her servo was a small surface with five Cybertronian symbols on it. Her optics focused on it, unsure for a moment.

Then, Darkstrike understood.

It was the pass-code to open his door. She looked up at him, but saw that he was busy again in the project. While in shock, Darkstrike walking to his door, she typed in the symbols near the edge. The door suddenly hissed open. Darkstrike looked at him one last time. Her lips pursed in hesitation. She gulped, knowing she was going to regret what she did next.

"When do you want me to come back?" she suddenly asked.

Soundwave turned his head slightly. He was silent, very silent.

After all he had done, after walking on the thin line the femme had begun to make, after he had begun to push her farther than anyone had, she had still held her offer to him.

"Tomorrow," he responded. The door had then shut.

If Soundwave were any less stoic, he would have smirked. He had won for the moment. If the femme wouldn't return, Soundwave knew that he would have succeeded in humiliating her. If she didn't return, it meant that what he had done actually had an affect on her. However, if Darkstrike did return, it meant that the femme accepted his dominance and actions, and would let him continue, regardless of what he had already done. Either way Darkstrike lost.

And he had won this round of his little game with the femme.

* * *

Darkstrike attempted to compose herself in a dignified manner. She pursed her lips together and kept her optics open in a rough realization of what had happened in lapse of two cycles. All of it was unreal. Darkstrike stumbled to the end of the hallway, searching for a haven in her chambers.

As she darted towards the hallway, a large figure seemed to be standing in the way. Darkstrike, currently being more agile and attentive of her surroundings, managed to avoid it. When her vision cleared, the femme managed to get a view of who the large silver figure was.

In front of her stood Megatronus.

Her optics widened. She took a step back and noticed how he observed her with slight curiosity and wariness. She gulped.

"What are you doing in these hallways?" he questioned. Darkstrike furrowed her optic-ridges.

"-Nothing!" she blurted too quickly to be true. Megatronus sensed her dishonesty; however, Darkstrike ducked her helm and scurried out of his reach before he could further question her.

His optic-ridges furrowed as she left and he couldn't help but slightly smirk.

The femme being too preoccupied with the thought of Soundwave, didn't see it. She rushed past the energon room, more corners and turns until she skittishly typed in her own passcode. The door hissed open and the femme couldn't help but feel relieved at the sights of her own berth.

Darkstrike flopped down on her berth. She curled up beginning to feel slightly weary. It was about late cycle. The femme hadn't realized how much time she had spent in the other mech's room. She should have realized the joors she spent in there, after all, many things had happened in her recent captivity.

How could all of it be possible?

The way he knew what was on her mind. At first the femme thought she was being paranoid, but now she knew there was something definitely there. Some of his statements only helped to confirm her claims that Soundwave could read her mind. It sounded utterly ridiculous, and many would call her crazy for thinking that, but none of them had been through what she had.

She stopped.

For a moment, hypothetically speaking, if her suspicion was true, did that mean... he had read... all of her thoughts? _Oh_ _slag_. Darkstrike wanted to move to another planet. She almost didn't want to return.

Actually, Darkstrike completely didn't want to return.

Though, the femme would have unfinished business if she left now. She had done much, but she still had yet to prove her usefulness to him. Darkstrike didn't want him to know that she almost cracked just with one visit in his room.

She didn't even understand why else she wanted to risk returning to his room. It wasn't safe or sane for her to return. The Gladiator was capable of taking her anytime he desired.

It was dangerous.

It was risky.

It was perilous.

It was _fascinating_.

The thought of returning seemed a lot more interesting than carrying on with her usual routine that consisted of training and doing nothing engrossing.

Curiously enough, Soundwave hadn't tried anything besides touching her as he pleased. However, Darkstrike suspected that it was more of a superior issue than it was for lust.

Darkstrike had a feeling that the only reason he hadn't taken her, like other mechs would have, is because he thought she wasn't worth his time. Soundwave outranked her by a lot and didn't seem the type to hold such mech sentiments that others would.

At the same time, Darkstrike felt offended and respectful by that fact.

Then again, Soundwave knew and could infer much by her previous actions. By far, Soundwave was the Gladiator mech she had spent the most time with. He must have known her better than anyone there, which still wasn't saying much.

The Gladiator had been able to observe her slight... liking to him... her jealousy, of Airachnid no less! He even knew where her subspace was. And yet, Darkstrike knew nothing about him.

Well, that completely wasn't true.

She recently found out that he was very innovative. Soundwave had a very high intelligence to be able to design such a complex creation. He was also very enigmatic. He was silent. He chose for the right moment to react, however Soundwave had never revealed anything else. This caused Darkstrike to become uncertain whether she was right.

The flier was beginning to wonder why out of all of the mechs, she had to have fallen victim to Soundwave? _Victim_? Was that the appropriate term?

It seemed so.

* * *

The next morning, Darkstrike sluggishly made her way towards the energon room. She knew that there wouldn't be any real energon, but the change in company might be refreshing. The other mechs were probably regrouping before training as well. It was most likely out of habit than anything else.

As she entered to room, she noticed the familiar mech, reading the same datapad she always remembered him reading. She gave a weak smile and leaned on the counter.

However, the mech didn't even look at her.

"There's no energon today," he stated rudely.

"I know,"

Magnesium slowly averted his eyes from his datapad onto the femme in front of him. He paused for a klik.

"You look like slag," he stated. Her already weak smile, reverted into a grimace. She rolled her optics and sighed.

"Well so do you,"

"..."

"Also, you should be a little more grateful. _I_ saved your datapad from shattering," the femme remarked. Magnesium chuckled.

"So? I have more you know. Do you actually think that I read the same datapad everyday?" he questioned. Darkstrike looked away and coughed.

"How would I know? They all look the same." she stated.

"Figures that's what you'd know about datapads," the red mech hummed. Her optic twitched slightly.

"Oh shut up, I'm not in the mood for your smart-aft sarcasm," she snapped.

"Very appropriate attitude, femme. That smile of yours lights up my cycle. I'm assuming you were hopped up on energon the other cycle, you know, like everyone else." _Except for Soundwave._ Darkstrike groaned and held her helm.

"Don't remind me," she replied, burying her helm in her arms.

"Seems like you had a rough night," the mech said with an amused tone of voice. He lowered his datapad, signifying that he was now mildly engaged in conversation.

"You don't even know the half of it," she mused.

"So what happened with you?" the mech asked, now curious. Darkstrike hesitated. She was unsure whether to continue to tell the mech. It really wouldn't help her at all. He obviously wouldn't give her any helpful advice. For all she knew, he would blabber it to the other mechs. He seemed like the type.

Then again, it would help telling at least someone... even if it was _him_. She had already been through the worst, what harm would it do? So long as she didn't mention any designations, right? Darkstrike might as well humor the mech.

"Lets just say... I ended up in someones... chambers," she said in a low voice. Magnesium quirked an optic ridge.

"You inte-"

"No! You idiot, I never said that any inappropriate actions occured! Is that all mechs think about?- Never mind that," she sighed.

"You ended up in someones chambers without interface? Seems like a complete waste, at least to me. I don't judge preference," he remarked. Darkstrike preceded to glare at him.

"So who is the mech anyways?"

Darkstrike's hard gaze dissolved. She remained silent.

Magnesium's stare didn't encourage her to speak, quite the contrary. She averted her optics. He rolled his optics and sighed.

"Is the mech in the room right now?" he questioned. Darkstrike faced the other direction to get a view of the mechs in the room. Her optics scanned the room, flickering towards all the tables. Accidental optic-contact only caused some mechs to wink or glare at her.

She also made sure to avoid the little group of RocketShield over there at the corner.

Then she saw the distinguishable visor. The femme hastily turned around before he could take notice of her. She tapped her claws in the counter and looked down.

"No," she responded.

"Ah, so he _is_ in here," Magnesium hummed. Her optics widened and her claws curled, producing fresh scratch marks on the counter. How did he know? Did everyone have the ability to read her mind?

Well slag.

"How would you know?!" Darkstrike accused.

"Your reaction made it obvious." he replied. The flyer sighed in relief. Alright then, so not everybody could read her mind. Just maybe Soundwave. Not that it was any better.

"So who is the lucky mech? Or the one that decided not to fra-" the red mech was cut off.

"Why is it suddenly so important now?!" Darkstrike said, becoming offensive. He laughed.

"It's not. You only made it seem that way because it's the main topic of our conversation,"

"Then I can change the topic?"

"No."

"You know what? I can just walk away from this so called _conversation_," she said. He shrugged.

"Whatever, you _are_ the one that started it,"

"Well I'm finishing it!"

"No need to get angry. Damn femme getting this riled up for one mech," Magnesium muttered.

"I'm not riled up, and So- _ahem_, that mech means nothing to me," she said, suddenly going quiet. Magnesium raised an optic ridge.

"Wait, what was the designation you were going to give?" he asked.

"Nothing!" she blurted.

"No, it started with an 'S' didn't it?" the red mech insinuated. Her optics widened.

"No..."

"A while ago, weren't we talking about a mech with the name of Sa- So... what was his name?"

Darkstrike wanted to purge her tanks. _Well this was a mistake. _

"I have to go,"

And like that, the femme was quickly rushing out of the room. She wasn't able to leave, not before slightly bumping her shoulder with one specific mech's long arm. When they turned to look at each other, the thick tension was immediately noticed. Darkstrike knew she was probably being paranoid and that only she was the one that noticed it. The moment was too quick. The femme nervously raised an optic ridge before quickly apologizing and continuing on her path.

* * *

Soundwave watched as the femme scurried out the energon room. When he turned back, he noticed some optics on him. He stood up straight and high. This stance was enough to make everyone look away.

He didn't bother with listening to their petty thoughts; he had much better things to think about. Things that didn't involve that femme either.

It was about time he took his processor to a more complex level than of trivial thoughts of the femme. It made him feel impotent, and that was the last thing Soundwave needed. It was a pass-time, not an obsession.

Soundwave continued walking, remembering why he had gone to the energon room in the first place. He made his way closer to a large silver mech with a datapad in his servos. Soundwave took a seat beside Megatronus. Blue optics flickered his way.

"Soundwave," Megatronus acknowledged. The mech nodded in silent greet. Soundwave pointed at the datapad. It looked almost brand new. He wasn't one to question the origins though.

"Ah, yes. A friend gave it to me. I have a certain taste with the politics of this era,"

"Injustices?" Soundwave inferred.

"Exactly," the blue-optic mech responded, "And I have a feeling we share similar feelings about it,"

Soundwave gave nothing more than a curt nod.

"Good. So we're on the same page,"

This time Soundwave didn't make a gesture that he had heard or agreed.

"Do not misunderstand, Soundwave. I only mean to encourage those to fight back against the hierarchies that plague the current societies, or am I wrong for seeking justice these Gladiators clearly deserve?"

Soundwave, although wary of the Gladiator's eloquent words, knew that he had a point. Although, he didn't want everyone to be free just yet.

Freedom was not free. Not everybody deserved it. Some had yet to earn it... he couldn't the dark-armored femme from coming to mind.

* * *

**Ha ha! Done. Something for you readers to enjoy after having to wait for so long. Thank you for compliments, and please review so that I know that you all are still interested. **

**Until next time. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I know it's terribly wrong always disappearing between chapters. I just lost inspiration for a while, but summer had encouraged me to continue on with this story. I can't make any promises because I'm ****a jerk and will probably break them. But finally, here is the next chapter.**

**Questions**

_**Are we going to get an appearance from Sentor Ratbat? Or any of the Senators anytime soon?**_

**I have no idea. I've seen Senators added in these types of stories, so I might consider it.**

_**Will Soundwave ever fight Darkstrike?**_

**Answered this chapter.**

* * *

**Provision- ****_a condition or requirement in a legal document_**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Coming online that next cycle was no problem for the femme. Darkstrike was prepared for what the cycle had to throw at her. She would face any mech and endure any training, any taunting! She even swallowed the pressure of having to return to Soundwave's room later on. That was much more frightening than any other task she had planned for that cycle.

_Well..._ Darkstrike didn't have to return to him anyways.

It was her own choice, but she felt that she would chose wrong if her appearance wasn't made. It would make her seem like a coward.

It only seemed to matter whether that slagger cared. Soundwave. _Soundwave_. _**Soundwave**_. It was all she found herself thinking about. It was stupid. Darkstrike should not obsess over _any_ mech at all! It had have been the frequent appearances he made in her day. At this point, they saw each other often enough that he had embarrassingly seen her at her worst.

She sighed. Even then, she thought that Soundwave had somehow treated her differently. She was not treated as an equal, but nor was she completely treated like scrap. It was somewhere along the middle... If that made any sense. Now that she had shown some potential, Soundwave at least treated her like a bot rather than a lowlife miner. It was a start, but certainly far from what her main goal was.

Also, his groping would have to stop. She had already decided this before. Darkstrike would either retaliate or try to get away before she would get pinned. She knew that one day those sweetly venomous touches would lead to something else, and she would be helpless, too deep in her own- The femme quickly stopped and dropped the subject. She blushed a deep blue.

Soundwave had already shown her she would not be worth _that_ kind of time. For that, she was somewhat grateful.

The Gladiator femme would have to be extremely careful when around him. Not even her thoughts were safe.

* * *

Darkstrike arrived into the energon room. Her spark began shifting but she quickly coughed it away. The femme made a note that she would need more armor to cover that area on her body... well, _if_ and _when_ she had the currency.

Her optics glanced across the room.

Although again there would be no energon, Darkstrike decided to pay a visit to Magnesium. Simply out of habit, her optics landed in the direction Magnesium always was.

Much to her surprise, he wasn't there. The mech, usually at the counter, was missing. No one seemed alert about the irking mech's absence. Maybe she was the only one who had noticed... or maybe the only one that seemed to care. Perhaps others did notice but hadn't cared. She frowned. Although the mech wasn't the best company, he wasn't what you would call scum either.

"Brightplate!"

Speaking of scum.

She closed her optics and hoped the voice would go away. She wanted Magnesium, not _him_. _Not that Soundwave was a bad option either. _Darkstrike completely disregarded that thought, wishing she could just discard it forever.

"So there the femme is," RocketShield said.

Darkstrike turned around and forcibly opened her optics. She stood quiet.

"I was going through my memory banks and I saw the good times we had." he said casually. Darkstrike noticed his usual group wasn't accompanying him.

"I don't remember," she stated quickly. She attempted not to sound nervous.

"Yeah you do,"

She vented out.

"How do you know what I remember?" Darkstrike asked defensively, "Does it matter?"

"Not as much as you'd wish," he said, "I really enjoyed you much better then. You were much easier to grab."

She muttered a snarky comment under her vent. However, the words flew freely from her mouth components.

"What was that?" RocketShield asked threateningly.

Darkstrike's optics widened in slight alarm. She responded as RocketShield began to advance.

"Nothing worth your time," Darkstrike replied wearily.

"Exactly. You're not worth anyone's time." he poked at Darkstrike's shoulder. She was lightly pushed back because of the force. The femme glared at him.

That wasn't true! She was worth something to Soundwave... wasn't she? _Ha, don't lie to yourself, _her processor cruelly snapped. The shattering thought crept up into her processor.

What if she wasn't worth anyone's time?

Her creators had discarded of her. The wrecker, her first love, had abandoned her, no one in her previous caste really liked her, Magnesium only tolerated her but Soundwave...

"I am not interested what you have to say," she poked back, causing him to back up. Hopefully she sounded convincing. Though, with her luck, RocketShield would find a rebuttal and cause her remark to backfire on her.

His scarlet optics glared at her.

"And tell me, who's interested in what _you_ say?" he mocked. There was her plan backfiring on her. She shot him a subtle glare.

"I-I..." her optics flickered away.

"Exactly." that smug son of glitch.

Her optics narrowed at him. She desperately searched her processor for something to say.

"If I'm a 'Brightplate', what would that make you?" she blurted out. Her words were her only weapon at the moment.

"A superior Gladiator," he smoothly replied.

A streak of audacity began creep its way up to her boiling anger.

"Ha! I can list far more superior Gladiators than you."

"Like who?" RocketShield dared to ask.

She gulped.

Before Darkstrike could remark again, she found the sudden urge to look away from RocketShield, only slightly to the right. She found a familiar mech among the crowd of Gladiators in the room. He was situated perfectly, right behind RocketShield.

His visor was pointed in her direction, letting her know he was watching. She cursed in her processor but accidentally said his name aloud.

"Soundwave...!"

RocketShield's smug appearance automatically dissipated into a bemused one. Darkstrike, unfortunately, let her gaze linger for a bit too long. RocketShield managed to follow it all the way to the mech her optics were on.

"Soundwave?" he questioned.

* * *

Once Megatronus had left, Soundwave lingered in the energon room.

For one of many reasons, the main one was because he was indulged in his own thoughts.

What Megatronus spoke about was very true.

A right was an innocent thing, never given to bots like them. A natural right never seemed to be given from those who could be called right, or morally correct. Megatronus planned to do something about it. For the moment, it seemed Megatronus shared a dream of a more efficient Cybertron. One Soundwave appreciated.

Soundwave was willing to listen to someone he could call equal. He didn't approve of many things about Megatronus. However, he recognized power when he saw it. He didn't compare himself to other bots, but the silver mech seemed to be the exception.

Megatronus had initially noticed him because Soundwave fought ruthlessly. This smaller mech fought to keep his life and even went as far as challenging Megatronus'. But this wasn't anything new. It had been this way for a very long time.

So for now, Soundwave wouldn't mind Megatronus. Trust was an unnecessary word. They didn't need trust. But Soundwave knew Megatronus had other plans besides using his words to inspire others and shattering injustice. Though in his opinion, Megatronus was asking for too much. The mech's hopes were too high along with his expectations; the only way Cybertron would be free of it corruptness, was if the planet itself was destroyed.

Nonetheless, whatever he was planning, Soundwave was willing to join.

Megatronus had left, once he felt that he had made his point. The larger mech had also talked about going somewhere out of the arena for business. It wasn't Soundwave's business, but he had been unintentionally been able to catch a few thoughts. Something about a clerk and datapads. That was all Soundwave was willing to prod about the subject.

So that was how it was for that morning.

Soundwave sat silently at the table, and it seemed to encourage other high rankers to do the same. Only the ones who wanted quiet sat there. Although in that room, quiet was only possible when it was empty.

His frame subtly shifted, breaking his thought. A slight movement in his spark seemed to bother him more than it should. Just when he had thought the glitching had gone away. Soundwave ignored it.

Looking up, he saw the movement of a femme. There were no femmes in these parts of the Pits, except for Darkstrike of course. He assumed it had to be her.

Her helm moved from side to side, seeming to search for someone.

Soundwave knew all about the acquaintanceship between Darkstrike and Magnesium. She would search him up once she entered the energon room. Now that the mech wasn't there, what would she do?

He watched in discretion.

Coming from behind was RocketShield. The femme seemed to be capturing the attention of many, he noticed. Soundwave wasn't surprised; mechs wanted one thing from her. It was the reality of Kaon. It almost impelled him wanted to be the one to scar those delicate little features.

Though he discarded of thought. It was no good becoming more involved than he already was.

The Gladiator watched Darkstrike give RocketShield an annoyed glare.

They were having a petty argument. One that consisted of Darkstrike and her inferiority. Soundwave usually reminded her. He somewhat disliked the fact that RocketShield was doing so.

He listened to their argument.

"And tell me, who's interested in what _you_ say?" RocketShield spat.

RocketShield was one to talk. He wasn't exactly in the finest caste or highest rank.

"I-I..."

How pathetic.

"Exactly."

A glare appeared on her features.

"If I'm a 'Brightplate', what would that make you?" Darkstrike questioned. So she wasn't completely useless in the argument.

"A superior Gladiator,"

RocketShield was an ignorant mech. Soundwave wasn't arrogant; there was nothing to gloat about survival, but after surveying RocketShield's skills, he knew there were far more superior Gladiators.

The look in her optics reminded him why exactly Darkstrike was had been worth some of his time. Red optics narrowed up at RocketShield.

"Ha! I can list far more superior Gladiators than you." she challenged.

"Like who?" RocketShield questioned.

There seemed to be a pause. Instead of looking away like he should have done, he stared ahead waiting for Darkstrike's optics to meet his visor. He wanted to hear who exactly she thought was more superior than RocketShield. He knew then that she had caught sights of him.

"Soundwave...!"

He stood unaffected.

RocketShield turned around to look at him.

"Soundwave?"

Some other Gladiators glanced at him, but his deadly silence was enough to drive their gazes away.

The boisterous voices quieted down for a few kliks, before she continued.

"Yes! Is he not a superior Gladiator?" Darkstrike asked. She was attempting to cover her mistake. He could tell by her colorful use of language reverberating from her thoughts.

RocketShield looked at him and slightly narrowed his optics. Soundwave didn't move. For all others knew, this could be a sign that he couldn't care any less than he already did.

RocketShield looked back at Darkstrike, but saw she was gone.

Soundwave knew she had left, the femme had given him a glance before exiting through the door.

* * *

Darkstrike stood outside the door. _The_ door. His door. _Soundwave's_ door.

Her glossa ran over her white lips. Her venting was uneven. Optics ridges furrowed in anxiety. The femme extended a servo and gave two hard knocks.

The empty hallway intimidated the femme. She hoped no one would see her, Megatronus being one of the first on that list. She hoped that the first time they had encountered around these areas would the the last. It was unnerving as it is. She might have had _some_ courage with Soundwave, but that was because he had shown her some of his intentions, Megatronus being a whole other story.

She let her thoughts ease down as she waited.

The door wouldn't open. The flier gave another knock.

Was he not in there? She said she would come! Training was over, any other fights were over. There was no reason he shouldn't be in there.

Darkstrike huffed, too stubborn to leave. _I said I would come dammit, now I'm here. _

She looked down at the symbols next to his door. They glowed green, catching her attention. They were almost identical to the ones on the other side of the door.

She wondered...

Taking the slip out from the previous cycle from her subspace, Darkstrike glanced at it before typing it in. The door hissed open.

Darkstrike hesitantly walked. Her pede-steps made slight creeks. Her sensors detected the presence of another Cybertronian in the room. Her helm turned in the direction of the mech.

He was working on the drone.

The door closed behind Darkstrike.

"I apologize if I'm intruding..." she spoke a bit shakily.

She was greeted by the suffocating silence. Her spark broke its slow rhythm. Wide red optics stared at him as she awkwardly tensed up.

"Returned as promised." he stated. She vented in slight relief.

"Do you mind that I entered without your consent?" she asked.

"Only when permitted. Example: When aiding in the construction of drone." Soundwave replied. The femme slightly gained more confidence. She neared him, careful not to get too close. As she went to get the datapad, her arm brushed his. This created a wild reaction in her spark. Cautious enough not to make any sudden movements, Darkstrike backed up, hoping to remain unfazed by the small contact. Next time she would make sure to be more careful. Soundwave probably wouldn't appreciate it. _What did he care about contact? He sure seemed to like it yesterday_.

Darkstrike backed up and sat on his berth. The femme figured she was allowed this, it would get annoying constantly asking Soundwave for permission. He didn't seem like the type of mech to constantly respond... or even talk in general.

It was a calm silence she needed.

During that time, her claws typed on the datapad, never missing a beat. Her sole purpose for being allowed in his chambers was this drone. However, the more knowledge she gained from his datapad, the more she was beginning to notice how alike this drone would be like to a minicon. The femme wasn't entirely sure if she could call it that. There were significant differences to one another. It also seemed like Soundwave wanted to have some sort of connection with this drone, though the datapad didn't specify. Soundwave was telepathic and perhaps it had something to do with that.

Speaking of the mech, it didn't seem that he was all that interested in conversation. Not that there was a difference to other cycles. Well, Soundwave didn't really have to talk. He could get any information he wanted without so much as saying a word.

Although this was a very valuable ability, Darkstrike wouldn't reveal this anyone else. Anyways, if she did, she was sure they would all call her crazy for suggesting the incredulous idea. She didn't entirely believe it herself.

Soundwave would also get angry for leaking this information and he'd most likely do something to retaliate. Lastly she wouldn't say a word if her suspicions turned out to be true, because she did hold respect for the Gladiator. It might have been stupid, but he hadn't really done anything to her. True, she wasn't treated like she wasn't the most special femme, but Darkstrike wasn't expecting to get pampered in the first place, especially in Kaon.

Returning to her previous task, Darkstrike decided to finish up on the page she was on. She took her time, careful not to miss any mistakes. Seeing as it was as close as it could be to flawless, the femme decided to take a peak at Soundwave.

Darkstrike looked up and saw Soundwave add more pieces. They weren't exactly fitting perfectly. He seemed to recognize this, but didn't express any outward emotions.

"Why don't you replace those parts with ones more efficient so you can stabilize the drone?" she suggested.

Soundwave looked at her, seeing as she broke their silence.

"Suggestion is valid. Resources: Unavailable." he said.

Darkstrike looked down. She furrowed her optic ridges, trying to think of a rebuttal.

"I can get them." she blurted. Soundwave stared at her in silence. It was a type of quiet that made Darkstrike think he was judging her. It chilled her, yet reminded the femme to hide her thoughts from the telepath.

"Currency—"

"Unnecessary! I don't need them! I can get the pieces you need without them."

He didn't say anything else. Either because he didn't think he needed to, or it wasn't worth his time, Darkstrike didn't know. Though, she had a feeling it was because she wasn't exactly trusted to fulfill her promise.

Soundwave handed her a list.

"Acquire what is possible." he said. She nodded and made a move to leave. The femme accidentally crashed into the door, forgetting that she needed to type in the password before exiting.

Her faceplates glowed blue in a blush. She quickly typed it in. Darkstrike sheepishly coughed before scurrying outside. Soundwave only stared at the place she was once standing in.

Darkstrike sighed in relief. That wasn't the best way to show her intelligence. She was already on a bad streak.

The femme passed the halls, hurrying as fast as she could. She knew of the place on the outskirts of the arena where a mech sold spear parts to the Gladiators. Hopefully it was there today, because the unlike them, the mech who sold parts was allowed to leave the arena. He was only allowed in for business purposes.

When she finally made it there, the door swished open. When the flier stepped in, some loitering Gladiators turned to her and chuckled.

She wasn't exactly sure what that meant, or how she should take it. The femme decided to take it offensively, and put her guard up.

She entered the line. The femme crossed her arms and waited patiently, ignoring any stares she received. At least there weren't many Gladiators in that area. Five at the most. After a few kliks, they began as they were before she had arrived.

After a few more moments of advancing, Darkstrike felt a servo touch her wings. Her response was because she hadn't anticipated unknown contact, not from sensitive wings.

She turned around angrily.

She saw the same pair of Gladiators that had chuckled at her. One was short and one was very large.

"You have wings," the large one chuckled, "I didn't know that."

"Are you a seeker?" the smaller one questioned. She turned blue with embarrassment and anger. This caused both of them to laugh with amusement.

"I am not a seeker!" she growled quietly.

"Of course not," the large one said.

"But if you every want to take a ride with one, just say the words..." the smaller one leered.

"Drixco! Battlesmash! Leave the femme alone and get these mechs the parts they need."

They both mumbled to each other before escorting the other mechs. The area was soon empty.

"Come on, Darling, I'd like to finish this up today," the mech said, "I've got places to be and things to receive."

Darkstrike warily approached the mech. He seemed harmless enough, nothing that suggested he was a Gladiator. The mech had unique purple optics. The mech wore a charismatic smile with a servo on his chin as he looked at her with interest. He looked up and down at her, as if scanning her appearance.

"What'll it be?"

"What exactly do you have?" Darkstrike asked skeptically.

"You could say I have a lot," he replied, "I pride myself in having things others don't..."

"But you don't have everything." she clarified.

"Well I don't have a femme."

Her red optics widened.

He laughed halfheartedly.

"I'm kidding. Pleasure bots are found in other parts of Kaon, which I can hook any friend of yours up if you'd like?"

She looked at him in a disturbed manner.

"I'm alright..." Darkstrike mumbled. She took out the list from her subspace. There were only two things on it. She frowned. _Soundwave has a lot of faith in me, doesn't he? _She placed the list back in her subspace.

"Do you have the remains of any drones?" she asked.

"You plannin' on building one?"

"Just some business."

"I see... if there's anything I know better, it's business." he reached into his subspace and grabbed a servo-full of objects. _What exactly did he keep in there?_ Forgetting the question, Darkstrike's optics drifted at what he had to offer.

There were multiple spear parts. They looked like decent parts that were in some type of shape. It didn't look like scrap, she'd give him that.

"Here, I consider myself a reasonable mech, especially to femmes. I'll give this to you for... 40 credits, how's that sound?"

"Your generosity just reaches me so profoundly." she sarcastically said.

"Fine then, Miss Ungrateful. You list a price. I'll decide whether it's reasonable or not."

"How about a bargain?" Darkstrike suggested.

"A bargain? I'm somewhat interested," he said, "But tell me, how exactly will this benefit me?" His fingers motioned to himself.

"You'll obviously be getting something in return for these parts."

"So a trade?" he specified.

"Energon coins is something you'll always get. Why don't I offer something else?"

He motioned her to continue.

"I'll give you... a blade from the city of Kalis and free match to watch in the Gladiatorial rings."

He chuckled.

"Oh really? I expect you to deliver these promises you're making." the mech said, "I know exactly how you Gladiators work."

"So you know I'm a Gladiator." she inferred.

"Of course. I don't only sell items, but information too."

She took out the blade and handed it to him. The origin of the blade had something to do with a mech Darkstrike really hated.

The purple-optic mech inspected it.

"I see it already has an engraving on it. "R.S?" he questioned.

Darkstrike only shrugged with no real response she wanted to give to him.

He gave a mocking laugh.

"Alright, so that's one part of the deal. How do I know you'll return for the other?"

Darkstrike leaned on his counter, nearing his faceplates as her optic lids lowered slightly. He stood there, surprise flashing over his faceplates.

"Because you sell the best here, don't you?" she whispered to him. Her white lips curled into a smile.

"Damn right I do." he chuckled. He neared her even more and had the audacity to press his lips carefully to her cheek. "And you better hope you return because I have my ways."

Darkstrike fought the strong urge to jump back complete embarrassment.

When the moment seemed right, she stepped back. The femme disguised her blue blush as casual.

"Name's Swindle." he said. She collected the parts, storing them in her subspace.

"Darkstrike." she replied.

* * *

Soundwave heard the sound of his door open. He wasn't alarmed, as he was expecting Darkstrike's arrival.

It wasn't until he sensed the femme's presence near him, that he slowly turned his visor her direction. Darkstrike silently made her way towards his work space.

He could sense the satisfaction she wore.

She carefully revealed all of the parts she had retrieved, one by one taking them out of her subspace. Soundwave didn't say anything, as always. The only sign that he was aware, was the slight tilt of his visor as he looked down.

She had actually returned with more parts. He had only asked for, at most, only two parts. Frankly, he hadn't really expected her to return with anything.

Though a very small fraction of him was impressed, he was skeptical as well. It made him question where exactly Darkstrike had gone to receive these.

"The price? Did you require coins?" he questioned.

"I didn't need any." she replied.

"Query: Where were pieces acquired?"

"I got them from a mech named... Swindle." Darkstrike replied.

There was the answer to his question.

Soundwave knew exactly who the mech was. Swindle was a notorious dealer who knew how to get what he wanted, not only in Kaon, but in other cities as well. What differentiated him from other sellers or arms-dealers, was the amount of contacts he had and how persuasive he was. Of course, this charismatic attitude was essential for the type of business he was in. Swindle from his word, did have many items to sell, albeit many times overpriced. Soundwave was aware of Swindle's greed, knowing that it was in the seller's programming.

Soundwave hadn't expected Darkstrike to go there, especially with no credits.

"How did Darkstrike receive drone pieces?" Soundwave asked.

Darkstrike paused.

"I traded him..." she said.

"Payment: Items or services?" Soundwave questioned.

She processed the question and her light faceplates began coloring blue. He could feel the femme's hidden glare. Soundwave remained indifferent about it.

"No, I did not pay with services!" she stated indignantly. There was a klik of silence. "I paid with a blade... I found."

Her pause caused him to become suspicious.

He slowly prodded inside of her mind. Soundwave didn't have to go too deep.

_Two energon cubes..._

_A free entrance to a Gladiatorial match._

_A kiss on the cheek_.

He had automatically stopped when he received that last thought.

"Your offering was an entrance to a match." he stated.

Her optics widened.

"You... I-I..." she stuttered. "Well it doesn't matter. At least I bought you all necessary parts, didn't I?

"Promises will be unfulfilled towards Swindle." he said.

"I can get him everything I promised." Darkstrike stated.

"Decision: Rash. Femme's mistake."

She openly expressed her offense to his statement. He noticed her servos clench and the slight tint of blue on her cheeks

_Whether I made mistakes or not, it's not important. Beside, __I don't think you're actually concerned about me_.

He heard her thought.

He couldn't decided whether the femme had a point or not. Soundwave shouldn't—_didn't_ care whether the femme would willingly step into her own trap. She would trade items that were worth more than the things she received. As long as it didn't interfere with him, or his drone, he'd be better off not getting involved. Soundwave was intelligent enough not to trust Swindle, or anyone for that matter. The femme would learn this on her own. Hopefully this experience would cause her to become more aware and less overconfident.

"Do not be unintelligible. Swindle: Untrustworthy."

She didn't say anything. Darkstrike quickly grabbed the datapad and sat on his berth. He suspected she was angry, though she refused to express it aloud. Soundwave picked up her subtle hints. He should have dropped the subject, simply moved on. However, if he wanted the femme to assist him, he preferred her calm.

"Parts: Unnecessary..." he began.

_Is anything ever necessary to you?_

Soundwave didn't appreciate her tone, regardless if the words were actually spoken or not. He was doing enough in allowing her in his chambers and warning her about Swindle. Perhaps she was becoming too comfortable around him. He didn't like the idea at all. Nevertheless, the femme had proved to be useful to him. He wouldn't do anything about it _yet_. Darkstrike had gotten him parts that would help him advance in this construction. So for now, the pros outweighed the cons. This didn't mean that the suspicion would be merely brushed off.

"However: the parts will serve to be useful,"

Soundwave didn't praise or express gratitude. Even so, his words caused the femme to perk up. She looked in his direction, optics wide in surprise. Darkstrike then turned away, but he could somehow _feel_ her smile, a smile he had instigated.

A trivial comment from him seemed to affect her like that. It was unimportant and should mean little, but it didn't seem like it. Soundwave couldn't remember when he had made _anyone_ genuinely smile. If he couldn't remember, then it never happened. Gladiators only smiled when they had achieved victory, and even then it wasn't genuine. He rejected the idea of Darkstrike being the exception.

It was absurd. He couldn't bear the idea, especially for _her_. This made his thoughts drift to questioning why had she gotten those parts for him. Soundwave never asked for them; all he expected out of her was that she prove her so called intelligence to aid him with the drone.

His only conclusion was that Darkstrike did gifted him the parts out of _generosity. _They were Gladiators in Kaon. He had given her hints before that there was no place for generosity in the middle of their brutality.

She was desperate for his approval; she wanted to prove herself. He hadn't seen the femme express this for anyone else.

Any other bot would have been honored. Soundwave was not.

It must have been in her programming, or because of the caste she was from. Her good natured intentions were bothersome. It hinted at the innocence she once had. If she did not extinguish this, he'd terminate it himself. It was a nuisance for her and him.

Soundwave knew the femme hadn't gotten the parts for the sole purpose of the drone. She did it to please him, to impress him even. He already knew the femme held some type of infatuation, it irked him to know he unconsciously was fueling this.

His thoughts were becoming erratic and unusual to him. He had to remain calm and composed like he always had. A femme would not distort that order. It was a sign for him. A test of his strength, no not in the physical aspect, but mentally. He had beaten many physical barriers and he had always prided himself in having great mental stability. He was a telepath, having mental strength was essential or he'd lose himself in the complexity of thoughts.

He would not let the femme's actions bother him again. If Darkstrike was willingly to do anything because of her determination, so be it, so long as it worked to his advantage.

"Project will be resumed in two cycles. Return same joors," Soundwave said, "Never enter Soundwave's chambers on other terms. Action: Intolerable."

She seemed to get the message. Darkstrike stood up and quietly exited his chambers. He could still hear her thoughts as she departed, not sure whether it was intentional or not.

* * *

**One Orn later**

She hurried to the outskirts of the arena. Her sword lie on her back and claws tingled nervously.

As soon as she stepped towards the large area, she was spotted immediately by the other mechs. It wasn't every cycle that a femme visited the area.

Swindle narrowed his purple optics at her.

"Drixco, Battlesmash, I have to attend to business." he said. As if already accustomed, both mechs departed. Before fully exiting, they glanced at Darkstrike.

Swindle had given them an order, but their curiosity seemed to gave gotten the better of them.

"It's the seeker femme," the larger one said, "One of Swindle's clients."

Her optic twitched in irritation.

"I am not a seeker." she gritted through her denta.

"I ain't stupid. I know a seeker when I see it." the smaller one said.

She huffed, seeing as her words weren't going to convince him. Might as well not waste her breathe.

"Can I touch your wings?" he said, ignoring her statement.

Her wings tilted downward in response.

"Yeah, make it rain acid too!" now they were just mocking her.

"You'd like me to make it rain acid?" she asked, humoring them.

"So you can?"

"Yes." she repeated.

"Really?"

"No." Darkstrike stated.

The mech laughed at his friend.

"Besides, Swindle's waitin' for her. This is _personal_ business, Drixco." They threw her a knowing look. The mechs behaved as if knew something she didn't.

She shouldn't have been surprised; Darkstrike was already used to contemptible laughter.

Swindle tapped his fingers on the surface impatiently, managing to get her attention.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he said.

"You worried I'd... swindle you?" she asked.

Swindle deadpanned.

"You're not having the best reputation in keeping your deal, femme."

She shrugged.

"I am a Gladiator. What good of a reputation can I have?"

"You disappeared on me, Darkstrike," he tutted, "And here I thought you weren't like the others."

She looked away and rubbed her arm.

"Apologies. I lost track of time," she said, "Bad news is that I still don't have your free ticket."

Swindle was not amused.

"The thing about a deal is that you have to keep your end. I supply, you provide, provide me my goods. It's how it works, darling."

"I get it, don't patronize me," she said sighing, knowing he was right. "I'll get your ticket soon."

"And lets say, you don't?" he put his hands up in an obvious manner, "Not that I doubt your word." Darkstrike felt like she was being mocked.

"I'll give you the credits I receive from my next fight." she stated.

"Hmm..." he mused.

"I guess that's a fair deal. I accept," Swindle said, "_But,_ if I don't receive payment immediately after your fight, I'll tell Battlesmash to go track down the pretty little seeker that promised me goods,"

She assumed that the "pretty little seeker" was her.

"These are legal affairs as well. Owners can get involved pretty easily with just a wave of the credit."

"Alright fine I understand." she said.

"So we're on the same page."

"Thank you for such agreeable terms." Darkstrike muttered under her vent.

"If only compliments were as valuable as goods." he remarked.

"Somehow, I don't that would be useful to you; I don't think you get many compliments,"

"True. But business is business, Sweetspark." Swindle grinned.

He motioned her to come closer. She warily obliged.

"To seal the deal," he said. He grabbed her forearm to bring her closer. Swindle neared his face close to hers and gave her another kiss on the cheek. Her optics widened when she realized that something was off. A shock ran through her as her sensors registered the pain that he emitted.

Darkstrike immediately backed up, her servo on the spot he had made contact with.

"What the frag?!" she cursed. She touched the mark he had left.

"Only I have the remedy to remove that. Unless you permanently want to have that on your pretty little faceplates, you'll pay me."

"What-! How-! What was that?!" she exclaimed.

"A business secret." his voice rung with amusement.

She growled. "I don't like these terms anymore." she snapped.

"Business is business, Sweetspark."

"Was it really necessary?!" she questioned.

He let out a curt laugh.

"No. You newbies are so easy to get." Swindle said, "Plus, who wouldn't want to give a kiss to the pretty seeker?"

"I am not a seeker." she uttered for the umpteenth time.

Darkstrike understood. She had been tricked by this— this mech who knew business all too well. The femme now owed him more than the drone parts were worth. The flier was in debt now over simple pieces. If she failed to complete her part... well, then she was fragged one way or another.

Darkstrike had initiated this deal and now she had a stupid mark on her faceplates to show for it. The femme thought she could handle simple business and trade, but it turned out to much more convoluted.

It was mortifying and a constant reminder that she had not been more intelligent.

"_Do not be unintelligible. Swindle: Untrustworthy."_ her irk rose even more that she had not heeded Soundwave's warning.

Darkstrike turned around from Swindle. Normally, in the ring, you never turned your back on the opponent, but to frag with it. It wasn't like he was going to attack her.

She let out a few growls and she grind her denta together. Darkstrike's servos grasped her helm she let out all her frustration.

_Stupid Swindle_

_Stupid Soundwave_

_Stupid designations that begin with S._

The femme punched the air and unsheathed her sword, swinging it frantically. She knew she was acting insane but she was beyond caring. Darkstrike swung one last time, relieving herself of the irritation. The femme decided to finally compose herself.

Unsheathing her sword, she turned back to Swindle.

His arms were crossed with an optic-ridge raised.

"This is why you don't get compliments." Darkstrike remarked.

She brushed herself off. The femme mumbled a few curses from the Cybertronian language.

Darkstrike turned to leave. She took one last glance at Swindle. He was almost as irritating as Magnesium. They sure had that characteristic alike at least. That, and they both seemed to be behind counters.

Maybe they even knew each other. They both worked in the Pits didn't they? Wouldn't that be the coincidence of the vorn? The chance was slim, but Darkstrike had nothing else to lose. Better to resort to Magnesium for company, than that purple-opticed slagger. It was simple, if Swindle didn't know him, she'd leave and not waste her time there any longer.

"Swindle," she called. He looked at her. "Do you know a mech that goes by Magnesium?"

Swindle chuckled. "So you know him eh?" he questioned.

Darkstrike stopped in her tracks. She immediately walked towards him.

"You do know him?" the femme asked.

"I asked first."

"Of course I know him, why else would I ask?" she said in defense.

"Yeah I know him." Swindle replied after a moment.

"Do you know what happened to him? He hasn't been in the energon room for a few cycles."

"Sounds like you need information. Of course I can provide, for the right price."

She deadpanned.

"I have two credits." Darkstrike said.

"I'll take it."

She tossed it to him, and he caught it with ease.

"Magnesium is no longer needed in his old post. He'll work in another part of Kaon, transferred by one of the owners of course."

Darkstrike's optics widened.

"Transferred? When?"

He shrugged. "Information's blurry."

"So this is the owner's idea?" she asked.

Swindle shrugged again and nodded.

"How many owner's are there?" Darkstrike asked.

"Three." he responded.

"Which one is the most persuasive?"

"Lanyard."

* * *

Darkstrike gave the door a couple knocks, four knocks to be precise. She waited a moment before the doors automatically opened.

The owner, known as Lanyard, vigorously typed on one a large datapads. Darkstrike's olfactory senors detected the scent of high-grade energon. She made a slight noise. He immediately stopped and looked up at Darkstrike.

"Why do you come?" his question was neither asked harshly or kindly.

_OhslagohslagohslagohslagI'msofragged_. She froze for a moment, attempting to gather her thoughts and separate them from her words. Darkstrike had to look impressionable. She had to look like she meant business, like Swindle.

Primus, she was doomed if she was making _that_ analogy.

Darkstrike had to be extremely careful in this case. A few wrong words can literally strip her of her Gladiator armor into something she definitely didn't want to be. The owner's final words meant the difference between fighting and interfacing.

She gulped, regret gnawing on the tips of her claws.

Why was she doing this?

Why was she even alive?

Darkstrike still had a chance. She could turn around right now without questioning her existence.

"I'd like to make an offer." she spoke clearly.

So much for that.

Lanyard half-heartedly laughed.

"Oh really? What is it you bring to the table?" he asked. His voice was smooth and calm. He seemed very different than the owner she had met when discovering this arena. At least Swindle hadn't been wrong about that.

_Be impressive! Don't be such a Gladiator here!_

_But I am a Gladiator. If all goes according to plan, I will continue to be one. _

"Unlike others, I won't simply make a demand. I understand this concept of business." she said. Darkstrike felt like she was lying to herself. She felt pretentious; it wasn't a good feeling.

"Oh?" he asked, obviously amused.

"The price for a mech? How much would it be?" she asked.

"Depends who the mech is." Lanyard stated.

"Magnesium." she stated.

"Well if you're looking to buy—"

"All I want is for him to return." she said.

"Just return?"

She nodded.

"Unharmed?"

She didn't know how to respond.

"Let me stop you there, Femme. You've already made your first mistake," Lanyard replied, "You obviously have some sort of relationship with him if you want him back. That gives me some sort of leverage over you for future purposes."

She cursed underneath her vent. It had not taken long for this to escalate.

_Slag_ _it_! She always messed up with these things. It didn't take long for her big mouth to ruin her.

She was a goner.

Darkstrike was now asking herself what Soundwave would expect of her.

Perhaps to be intelligent.

"You overestimate exactly who I tie myself to. I'd like him back, yes, but enough to risk myself greatly, no. The price of buying him is far greater than just having him back."

He looked at her with silence.

Inside, she trembled. He could see through her lie! She knew it! Darkstrike was done for!

"What _are_ you willing to do for his return?" Lanyard asked.

She internally sighed in relief.

"How much do you want?" she asked.

"You bore me with numbers." he said.

"Business is boring, but it is what it is."

"It seems you have nothing valuable to offer me. You claim to know about it but in reality, lets face it, you know nothing about business." Lanyard stated.

Darkstrike fumed. She knew he was right, but the way in which he expressed it didn't please her at all.

Lanyard stood up. He began sizing her up, though their heights weren't that off.

"You're the owner's property, and not to mention a femme. You have no advantages and you're not creative," he said. "You're a mere Gladiator and I'm waiting for the moment you quit this... this," he gave a mocking laugh, "...charade."

Her optics narrowed and they glowed, mirroring her anger. The familiar heat began boiling up in her systems. Her claws clenched in an attempt to pacify this intense anger.

"_Fine_. Lets make this _interesting!" _Darkstrike's tone became restrained, "Who wants to talk about numbers when there's actions?"

"Alright. Boring will now be fun. I'll make you a real deal. For not only Magnesium, but 5 energon cubes, and a free ticket to watch a fight, I will fight not one, but _two_ Gladiators in the ring. I will take them on by myself," she said. "Imagine the many bots who will come see the femme taking on two mechs at the same time. They will _all_ come to see a Gladiator femme either fall or complete the challenge deemed impossible. Some mechs can't even take on _one_ Gladiator, now there's a _femme_ taking on _two_."

Lanyard let out a pleased laugh.

"Yes! _Yes_! You speak business! I accept those terms!" he said joyously. Darkstrike was beginning to think he was insane. "You can't back down now. Not with all of these _possibilities_! Bots from all over the city of Kaon will have curiosity to see this result. I'll notify you when you fight, and until then femme, prepare yourself."

He went to roughly shake her servo. Lanyard automatically let it go when he felt how steaming hot it was. She saw the mark it left on his servo but he seemed to brush it off.

"You are a pleasant surprise, Darkstrike."

* * *

The femme entered his chambers as expected. She entered quickly and sat on his berth. Soundwave didn't pay much attention until he realized that the datapad was still on his work space.

Soundwave turned his helm towards her. She hadn't said anything yet. Darkstrike seemed to be staring into the door she had walked through. The femme seemed so concentrated on it that she hadn't even picked up the datapad she was so enthralled with.

In fact, the flier hadn't done anything yet. Soundwave wouldn't tolerate her idling. Darkstrike was wasting time she could have been using to progress. He allowed her in his chambers for a sole purpose, and she wasn't it completing at the moment. Soundwave was not amused.

He wandered into her processor to find traces of the femme's unusual behavior.

_Swindle_

_Bargain_

_Lanyard_

_Deal_

_Slag._

"I'm deep in my own slag, Soundwave." she said.

Darkstrike never addressed him by his name. He preferred this. They weren't closely acquainted enough so that she could say his name directly or casually. However, that femme seemed too dazed to be paying attention to what she said.

As usual, Soundwave responded with silence.

"I was swindled today. By two different mechs. I set myself up for failure." she said.

Absentmindedly, Darkstrike stood up to grab the datapad from him. As she reached, something caught Soundwave's optic. He grabbed her wrist with reflexes fast enough to make Darkstrike to yelp. He wasn't entirely sure why he had done that, but he felt like something Darkstrike had was insulting him. Soundwave refused to be insulted in his own chambers and by her nonetheless.

The mech stood up, looking down at her. His fingers grasped her chin, directing her faceplates so that he could take a better look.

He noticed that there was a scar on her faceplates. Soundwave didn't approve. The femme was always injuring herself in battle, but this was different and familiar somehow.

One of his fingers brushed over the scar. He wasn't gentle. Soundwave's touch was not one of a loved one. It was one that meant that he was reprimanding her.

He realized that this was Swindle's marking.

This did not please him at all, not that she ever really did. Darkstrike had ignored his one simple caution. He had advised her and she ignored him. A part of him believed she deserved whatever consequence she received.

This was not only insulting him, but herself as well.

"Darkstrike's actions: Imprudent." he stated.

She looked away but he forced her to look at him.

"Speak." he commanded.

"I have yet to complete Swindle's bargain. And I also made a deal with one of the owners: Lanyard." Darkstrike said, red optics wide at the reflection of his visor.

"Proceed."

"I told Lanyard I'd fight two mechs in the same match in exchange for something I want."

He took a moment to find out specific information himself.

"Exchange: Magnesium, Swindle's bargain, Energon cubes." he stated.

Darkstrike froze. She gulped. "Affirmative."

His fingers draped down her neck causing a shudder from the femme. "Caution: Ignored. Consequences are from your own actions " Soundwave said.

"Stop patronizing me..." she mumbled.

His fingers wrapped around her neck. It was a loose grip that could tighten with the wrong move. "Disappointing."

Her optics closed and her optic ridges furrowed. Darkstrike flushed in embarrassment.

"But I will do better."

"Darkstrike: claims to have knowledge." he said.

"I do!" for the first time, Darkstrike grabbed his arm with one of her servos. Her optics opened, and her claws curled around his arm. The femme wasn't realizing how tight or hot her grip was becoming. Soundwave remained indifferent; he'd been through a lot worse.

"Darkstrike: Clueless."

She quietly growled, not liking her current predicament. "I _understand_! I was thoughtless."

"Affirmative." Soundwave stared at her in silence. He was aware how uncomfortable his silent gaze made her, and he intended to use it for that same purpose. Darkstrike began to struggle, causing him to tighten his grip.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked narrowing her optics.

"..." He didn't say anything for a few painstaking moments.

Darkstrike's grip became even hotter for some reason. Soundwave disregarded this. She looked at him with anticipation.

"Sparing: Tomorrow." he replied, "To train for match."

"We are going to spar tomorrow?" Darkstrike questioned in disbelief. "_I am going to offline_."

He gave a simple nod.

"Why?" she questioned.

"Your experience is insufficient. Conclusion: Darkstrike is not prepared to battle two mechs." The Gladiator finally released Darkstrike. She didn't automatically do the same.

Soundwave looked directly at her in the same deadly silence. Darkstrike automatically removed her arm from his arm. She coughed and looked away.

Soundwave then motioned her to come to the seat he was on. Though the action almost seemed spontaneous to her, Darkstrike immediately complied. She wasn't exactly sure what he wanted, but after what had happened, didn't question him. Darkstrike hesitated before sitting, but Soundwave grabbed her armored shoulder plate and roughly seated her.

He then proceeded to gather materials. The mech returned to her, grabbing her chin to tilt her face up.

Before she could ask, Soundwave spoke, "Swindle's mark: Intolerable."

* * *

**A/N: My laptop was being absolutely stupid. I probably re-edited this chapter 4 times because the last few times wouldn't save. I ended up giving up for a while, but I did it. Forgive any mistakes I may have missed, I've completely had it and I'm just relieved to have finished. I endured much frustration. **

**Anyways, on another note, if you didn't get the ending, Soundwave is removing her mark because he doesn't like it. **

**I've also introduced a minor character. I just really like Swindle, from G1 and Animated, but some mechs don't really like him, *cough cough* Soundwave. That is all fellow readers. I am off now, re-watching all of G1. Wish me luck and please leave me a review down below.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Excogitate**\- _**to consider or think something out carefully and thoroughly**_

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Soundwave looked down at her. His fingers tilted her helm upwards. She saw her reflection on his visor. Darkstrike was sure that behind that mask, he was watching her intently. His optics were trained on something, she wasn't sure what, but she was aware of their existence. Darkstrike couldn't remember it well, but she had had a glimpse of his crimson orbs. It was something she was sure wouldn't repeat._

_His long fingers brushed over the mark. He almost seemed to be reprimanding her in silence. _

_Soundwave applied the remedy to her faceplates. He rubbed it thoroughly with a device she couldn't place her claw on. Darkstrike hardly minded it; she was already grateful he was doing this. _

_He then slowed down, beginning to use his fingers to apply it carefully. Soundwave was a statue and she had no idea what he was thinking. After all, she wasn't the telepath there. _

_He suddenly stopped, and pressed harder than necessary on her mark. _

_Darkstrike blushed and averted her optics. The femme was aware of was that his servo was right atop of the noticeable blush. Soundwave could obviously see it, but didn't comment on it_.

Darkstrike recalled the memory as her fingers touched the infamous spot that had been treated. The slight movement was unintentional, but she couldn't forget the contact that had occurred between them. With Soundwave, it only seemed to be either actions or words, but almost never both at the same time.

His actions made her question exactly how much stability and restrain she had. Darkstrike probably shouldn't have overthought it, but her processor was already working to place every piece in its correct spot. However, unbeknownst to her, the pieces would never fit no matter how hard she tried.

She was convinced that there were two alternative reasons for his actions... and although aware of them, Darkstrike didn't want to consider either.

That mech was a tricky one. He was difficult to understand, if Darkstrike still wanted too. The only thing in her favor was that her fear for him had lessened considerably. It had decreased just enough that she understood he wouldn't kill her. Though that didn't mean she was going to let her guard down. Darkstrike could never really trust of the mechs she inhabited the Pits with... especially Soundwave. Heck, she hardly trusted mechs in general; it didn't matter their origin.

That same thought was enough to make her realize that she was, indeed, in a room full of mechs.

Not that it was any different than any other cycle in Kaon. The cycle would play out like it usually did. Luckily, she had already endured the hassle of onlining that morning. The flier currently refueled with whatever energon they gave her. She hoped she to break the routine by avoiding RocketShield today.

Afterwards, she'd train for as long as the owners wanted, oh but the cycle wasn't over yet! Lastly, she would wander in search of what entertainment she could seek out before going into recharge.

That was her usual routine.

That is, if she excluded the fact that her training would include a certain mech. A deadly mech, one she wasn't on the best terms with. Soundwave was an disquieting mech that always found a way to unsettle her, albeit unintentionally.

Darkstrike suddenly glanced around the energon room, hoping she wouldn't find said telepathic mech.

Fortunately for her, he was no where in sights. The femme sighed. She leaned on the same dreary wall as before, slowly sipping the low grade in her claws. It was a bitter reminder that she wouldn't always have the luxuries of high grade energon.

Her solitude was also a reminder of how outcasted she was. Darkstrike didn't know what exactly she had to do to be accepted by the Gladiators.

There wasn't much do either way. She was a fighter like them, whether they chose to accept it or not. It wasn't in her best interest to achieve the goal of acceptance; she had better things to do than gain their approval.

_Of course. You're not interested unless it's Soundwave's approval. _

She mentally glared at the thought. It didn't matter what she thought of him because at the moment, he was the only bot she had.

Darkstrike didn't particularly like relying on others, much less for company.

So for the moment, Darkstrike had no one to talk to, let alone sit with. All she could do was eavesdrop on other conversations. As much as she disliked the idea, it had been inevitable. It wasn't as if there were a long list of interesting activities to partake in. She might as well savor her sweet time before Soundwave would defeat her in their imminent spar.

"I swear, Collision, I can't find my blade anywhere,"

Darkstrike slightly raised her optics to the owner of those vocals. As expected, it was RocketShield, but much to her relief, he didn't seem all too concerned with her.

"Yah sure you didn't leave it in your room again? Better not start pointing any fingers like last time." his comrade replied.

"Yeah I'm sure! If I'm pointing fingers it's for something. Look around. Everyone's either a murder or dead." RocketShield begrudgingly spoke.

"What's that gotta do with anything?" he asked.

"It means I wouldn't be surprised the one who took my blade was in this room." RocketShield muttered. Darkstrike attempted to make herself invisible.

"How do you plan on provin' that?" his comrade asked.

RocketShield raised his arms up in dismissal. "It doesn't matter now. I'll just get a new one. I'm tired. It's not worth my effort." he muttered.

"Good. Then stop bladderin' about it. The last thing we need is someone hearin' you." this caused RocketShield to cross his arms unhappily and grumble to himself.

Darkstrike slowly swirled the last of the energon from her cube. Taking a large gulp she stood up. For what Darkstrike was about to endure, she was sure she'd need every ounce of energon in that cube. The femme also didn't want to be in the same room as RocketShield, if he was already suspicious of bots.

She discarded of the empty cube and headed out the door.

Having no where in particular to go at the moment, the femme wandered the halls, precarious towards which one she entered. She wasn't hoping to be caught off guard like other times.

There were too many corridors. As long she didn't go to the "prohibited" hallways, she resumed her wandering. Darkstrike decided she'd go through the ones she didn't recognize. All she knew was that she'd end up somewhere and she'd be content with the fact.

Darkstrike came to a halt when she realized that she had arrived to the grand arena, where all the battles took place. She was positive her last battle would be held in that death chamber.

Unknown voices caused the Gladiator femme to completely froze.

The arena wasn't open. Of course, it could have been other mechs who happened to be lolling. When there wasn't a fight going on, these areas were free to whomever. The owners usually didn't care who lounged around there, as long as they left before any real bots with money arrived.

The voices continued and the femme debated whether she would go investigate them or leave. However, curiosity wasn't considered being smart; Soundwave had told her before. Not that she was considering leaving because of _his_ advice. Darkstrike was perfectly capable of making her own decisions without the need of a mech.

Just as she made a move to exit, the voice of a femme reached her audios. That struck her as odd considering there weren't many femmes in the Pits.

The Gladiator couldn't resist herself now. She continued on walking forward, as silent as possible. Darkstrike hid behind the tall walls and focused her audios and optics on the Cybertronians. It took a few nano-kliks, but she eventually found a safe spot to eavesdrop.

From there, Darkstrike knew that she couldn't move any closer; any foolish antics that would surely get her caught. The femme's red optics only caught glimpse of Lanyard, but not the bot he was speaking with.

"So you'd like me to advertise?" a deadly feminine voice questioned. The voice was smooth and casual and one she clearly recognized. It made Darkstrike's gears grind in anger, despite Airachnid being unaware of her presence. The flier was engrossed now, her curiosity was once again getting the better of her.

"You know what you do," Lanyard stated, "Use that sweet little glossa of yours to talk the bots in."

Airachnid gave a crisp laugh. "It'll take more than _your_ words to persuade me." she said.

"Of course, you'll get that portion of what we make." Lanyard said.

"Which is...?" Airachnid questioned.

"It depends how much we receive." Lanyard replied making a gesture with his arm.

"Hmh, I'm not feeling convinced right now, Lanyard." she hummed.

"Well, you know what, you aren't the only sponsor available. I can just get another one; you're expendable." Lanyard stated.

"How many others do you know with the capability to go into other cities?" she questioned, "More importantly, how many sponsors do you know with currency?"

"That is, if you don't get caught. Gladiator matches _are_ illegal, if you didn't know." he rebutted. Darkstrike could see that his grin meant he was mocking the law.

Both bots shared a taunting laugh.

"We both know nobody cares. No one never has." she leisurely stated.

_Not unless they're making money._

Darkstrike could help but feel offended at their statement. She knew it was true, but it didn't make her too happy that Airachnid recognized it.

"Who exactly is it you want me to advertise anyways? Is this mech even worth it?" the spiderbot asked.

"Who said anything about a mech?" Lanyard grinned, "It's a femme."

Darkstrike's optics widened. She automatically knew who he was referring to.

There was a pause. Darkstrike could only see as far as Lanyard, she couldn't see what expression the other femme currently held. If Soundwave had taught her anything about silence, it was that it never meant safety.

"And what's so interesting about this femme you want me to advertise?" she asked. Darkstrike could sense the contempt. Not that she felt any different.

Why would she want some—some... overambitious spider advertising her? Ever since her fit of jealousy, Darkstrike hadn't liked Airachnid. The spider femme hadn't done anything to her personally, it was just her own intuition influencing her.

"She'll be fighting two mechs at the same time in one match." Lanyard replied.

Airachnid let out a loose half-hearted laugh as if what she just heard was the most amusing thing ever. Darkstrike narrowed her optics, seething at the other fembot. Given the current circumstance, the flier said nothing.

"Oh this is just too good." Airachnid remarked.

"I know!" Lanyard exclaimed.

"Who came up with this idea?" she asked, though Darkstrike could _hear_ the stupid smirk on the spider femme's stupid face.

"That's the best part! She did!"

"Why would she ask for her own death?"

"We made a deal." he said, raising his servo up dismissively.

"Really? What did she ask for?" Airachnid's voice sounded too joyful for her liking. Darkstrike fumed seeing that it was none of Airachnid's Primusdamn business!

"A mech, a good amount of high grade energon cubes, and a free entrance to a match." he shrugged.

"Seems...fair." she said.

"Yeah, if she comes out in one piece," Lanyard chuckled, "If she doesn't, might as well give it all this one match."

Darkstrike suddenly looked away from the scene, her audios only dimly aware of their conversation. Her optic ridges furrowed in anger and disbelief.

How many bots thought it would be impossible for her? None of the other mechs were encouraging, they thought she'd get scrapped in a normal fight, now image with two mechs.

It _certainly_ filled her with hope, not that she still had any. Darkstrike realized that Lanyard was assuming this to be her last match. It made sense why he was sparing no expense.

A certain question hit her hard. Was Soundwave the only mech that had some sort of faith in her? Obviously if he was taking the time to spar with her. Why else would he use his time on her? Not to end up with a defeated femme that's for sure.

Darkstrike asked herself another vital question. _Is this death match?_ No... it couldn't be. She had never been in those types of battles, and she knew that if she survived this current battle, she'd have to participate in one soon. The dark-armored femme preferred that her first death match wouldn't be with the odds of two mechs having to face her.

"I see. In that case, I accept. How long do I have?" Airachnid asked. Darkstrike averted her attention towards the two Cybertronians.

"We haven't decided on a specific date. However, this fight will take place no later than two orns," Lanyard explained.

"Perfect." Airachnid simply stated.

Darkstrike panicked seeing as they were about to depart through the same exit she was eavesdropping at. Her optics widened as she saw that she had very little options where to run, She'd likely be heard if she ran at full speed.

The femme looked at the arena wall she was leaning on. Above her , was a cylindrical shape helping the walls hold up. Darkstrike immediately jumped on it and began climbing. Her long legs wrapped around the metal and her arms allowed her elevate higher. Once she was sure she was high enough, she stopped to look down.

Airachnid and Lanyard exchanged more words before he turned to leave. The spiderbot stood in place, before walking off slowly.

Seeing as the owner was now gone, Darkstrike jumped down. The force of the impact was heard by none other than Airachnid.

The spiderbot turned around quickly, her guard up. When she saw it was Darkstrike, her violet optics widened. The Gladiator had a feeling that the other femme had recognized her.

"I knew I sensed an unwanted guest." she said, returning to her calm mask.

Darkstrike looked at her, servos clenching. The flier wasn't sure what to say, in fear that she'd say something that would make her seem foolish.

"You can get in trouble for spying on business affairs." Airachnid stated.

"It's just advertising, I doubt it's that important." Darkstrike replied. This spider femme made her fume and Darkstrike couldn't chose what exactly she wanted say. The Gladiator femme would have to control herself before attempted to be witty. Last time they had encountered, Darkstrike had shattered her datapad, and she was sure Airachnid hadn't forgotten. The Gladiator knew the spiderbot wasn't too happy about that.

Thinking about it now, Darkstrike realized that rash actions, like such, could get her into some problems. She knew that Airachnid wasn't completely powerless like she was. The spiderbot was closely acquainted with the owner and had the ability to travel other places on Cybertron. Eavesdropping told her that much.

This was also the femme who was informing bots of her fight, or how the owner put it, _advertise_.

"Hm, advertising is easier said than done." the spiderbot said.

Darkstrike looked down at the smaller femme.

"It seems pretty useless to me." she said.

Airachnid laughed. Darkstrike narrowed her optics at the sound.

"Not entirely. Advertising changes on how you tell your news," she said.

Darkstrike wasn't convinced.

"I assume you heard the agreement Lanyard and I made?" she asked.

"You don't know what I heard." the Gladiator responded in defense. Reflecting on what she had just said, Darkstrike felt like she had sounded ridiculous with an elementary comeback like _that_.

"What matters is what _other_ bots hear." Airachnid said.

"I couldn't care less what they hear." Darkstrike remarked.

Ignoring her statement, Airachnid continued.

"You can either say it like this, _come watch the Gladiator fight two mechs_... _or_ you can _announce _it like this: _Come spectate the femme who claims to have the strength to fight two mechs. Are you all ready to watch... imminent defeat_?"

The flier's optics enlarged for a moment, before she settled on glaring at the amused femme.

"_Defeat_?!" Darkstrike exclaimed indignantly.

"Someone has to face defeat. It's either the mechs chosen or the possibility of you." Airachnid said, her servo casually motioning to her.

"Oh I know exactly what you're insinuating! All you do is add fancy words to those suckers who are easily captivated."

"Look at that, smart too, you must have it all." Airachnid mocked.

Darkstrike was about to remark but after processing the other femme's words, she couldn't help but lightly growl. Darkstrike's words died on her glossa as she found nothing to say in return. The spiderbot arched an optic ridge.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"So you use words to get money? Seems hardly fair compared to what I have to do." Darkstrike remarked.

"Well, it's not about being fair is it?" the spiderbot asked.

She didn't reply to the rhetorical question.

"I don't just advertise, I _sponsor_!" Airachnid rephrased in a melodramatic tone.

"There's a difference?" Darkstrike blandly stated.

"Of course! I just don't expect you to understand." the sponsor claimed. Her tone was sickly sweet, it made Darkstrike want to purge her tanks.

Darkstrike wanted nothing more than to sink her claws into that dreaded femme. Airachnid had some sort of power over her, and it seemed she wasn't modest about it. Darkstrike knew there wasn't a penalty in how much respect one talked to a Gladiator. Nevertheless, she suspected there would be punishment for attacking a sponsor.

"But if you're interested, I can make some room, especially since you so rudely interrupted my last client." she said spitefully.

The gears clicked in her helm when the flier realized she was referring to Soundwave. This time, Darkstrike let out a wry laugh, surprising the spiderfemme, who thought to have had the argument under her heel.

"He wasn't interested in the first place, I spared you the time and effort."

Airachnid narrowed her optics, slightly breaking her usual façade.

"How exactly would you know that, _Darkstrike,_" her name felt like it was being spat with venom, "It's not like he actually talks... Unless, you've heard him before?"

She suddenly faltered, becoming nervous at the accusation. Darkstrike fought the blush that threatened to spread on her faceplates. That information would only ruin her. Airachnid would suspect something more, and if that happened... she was a goner. The spiderbot would have some sort of advantage over her, and the Gladiator couldn't allow that!

No one knew he had healed her. No one knew he had given her energon. No one knew he had helped her when she had been overcharged. No one knew that she entered Soundwave's room. No one knew she actually helped him in some way. No one knew they were going to spar! No one knew and it had to stay that way.

Sure, he had done all that for her, but because he had his own logic that was certainly different than what it seemed. She certainly didn't rely on him like some lost sparkling. Darkstrike had absolutely no need for a mech...

_I don't need Soundwave._

Soundwave wasn't that interested anyways. She had already accepted it the moment she had heard his intimidating silence. Whatever she knew or thought of him had to disappear if she was going to proceed.

Darkstrike quickly broke out of thought.

Her answer to Airachnid was simply a shrug.

"I can take a hint." Darkstrike said. She inferred that Airachnid wasn't convinced, based on the look the spiderbot gave her.

"If you say so, and for your information," she added, "Soundwave and I have already..."

Darkstrike immediately tuned out the femme. The klik Airachnid had mentioned herself and Soundwave, the Gladiator turned away. It had to be scrap. The spiderbot didn't have the right to say she was acquainted with Soundwave! Darkstrike didn't even have the right, why should Airachnid? It filled her with jealousy knowing that the other femme had talked to him before. _Hmph!_

Oh how she wanted to rub in the other femme's face that in fact, today she'd be sparring with the mech Airachnid supposedly knew. Darkstrike was almost completely sure she knew more about Soundwave than Airachnid could fathom.

"Anyways, as I said before, I gain currency from sponsoring. For example, if _you_ want easy-to-earn coins," she began, "I'll give the mech a price and I can arrange him to buy your time."

Darkstrike immediately flushed at the horrid suggestion. Was she implying... that Darkstrike would... The Gladiator grimaced.

"No! I will accept none of that. You and the mechs can keep the "easy" coins." she stated.

"My, my, a touchy subject for you it seems," she shrugged insensitively "It was merely a suggestion—"

"Yeah? Well keep your suggestions." she spat, her temper further rising.

Airachnid slyly chuckled. "I'm guessing that's a no?" she questioned.

"Look at that, smart too! You must have it all." Darkstrike said, repeating the same words that the spiderbot had used earlier.

"I have more than you." Airachnid stated. Darkstrike was becoming weary of her smart-aft answers.

"If you have it all, keep it. I'll do my job and you do whatever it is _you_ do." Darkstrike said obviously displeased.

"I need a datapad for that, and you seemed to have wrecked my last one." Airachnid casually stated.

Darkstrike ignored her and began turning around, seeing herself to the exit. "Poor you. Here I was thinking you had it all." she said rolling her optics.

Without a farewell, Darkstrike rudely continued on her way to rid of the mood Airachnid had put her in. Unfortunately, the Gladiator had not departed soon enough, because the spiderbot continued. Smooth, sly words filled the silence that Darkstrike intended on using to pacify herself.

"How about I give you the opportunity to gain something?" the other femme suggested.

Darkstrike grumbled underneath her vent but didn't look back. The words that sounded much like, "_I don't want anything from you._"

"Like... a wager...?" Airachnid asked.

The Gladiator slowed down her pacing.

"So I have your attention?" Airachnid asked.

She turned to look at her. There was no way she'd make more deals. With the amount of deals she already had, she'd be plain stupid to agree to another one.

Yet, that didn't stop her curiosity from igniting.

"About what?" Darkstrike asked skeptically.

"If you _lose_ your fight—and are still online, you'll owe me the most efficient datapads available on Iacon. I want 8 of them." she began, "But if _you win_, I will give you a fine crafted sword, from the best weaponry blacksmith of Kaon."

The Gladiator perked up. The thought of having a new weapon certainly pleased her. Everyone knew that one the best weaponry came from Kaon.

However, the pros and cons were just about at the same level of beneficial. A small prickle of concern rung in her processor. If she lost, Darkstrike would have to do the impossible to not only go to Iacon, but to retrieve 8 expensive datapads.

Soundwave had already warned her and he would certainly not be pleased if she placed another wager. She'd just confirm that she didn't have any intelligence.

The femme lightly brushed over the faded mark on her face.

Yet... if Darkstrike won... she'd make Airachnid swallow her words, and not only that, but get a free nice sword out of it. Her pride bubbled at the fact.

Darkstrike guaranteed Soundwave wouldn't find out about it. She didn't necessarily have to lie about it, so long she didn't think about it or mention it aloud.

But if he found out—

_So what if he finds out? It's not like he actually cares about. It's none of his business_.

Darkstrike wasn't restrained by Soundwave, she was a matured bot who could do what she'd like without notifying him. She shouldn't care what he though.

Though, her spark seemed to radiate another message though.

"I accept."

"And in case you decide to cheat me, I'll notify Lanyard of our side deal."

Airachnid held out her servo.

Darkstrike fueled by her irk, she gripped it tightly. Something about it caused the spiderbot's pink optics to widen slightly. Once she quickly let go, Darkstrike saw the mark she had left on the other femme's dark servo.

That was the third bot so far she had seen with a mark, because of the contact with her servo. Airachnid hid her servo and smirked. She turned around, her heals being the only thing Darkstrike could hear in the silent arena.

The flier watched her leave, envying that fact that Airachnid could come and go as she pleased.

Unbeknownst to Darkstrike, Airachnid had yet again broken out of her façade. The spiderbot scowled deeply as she exited.

* * *

The sound of the bell soon reverberated across the halls, signalling all mechs to move their afts. Darkstrike had been the first to get a move on. Other Gladiators made their way, some ignoring her, some not. It wasn't like Darkstrike cared at the moment.

She anxiously waited. Although she was nervous, Darkstrike decided to take this as a positive sign. Maybe this was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Darkstrike had wanted to be an equal to Soundwave. She could show him that she was very potent and sharp-witted. The flier knew what she was going against. The femme didn't know how deadly Soundwave could be, but she was sure he didn't have his ranking for nothing.

Although she was terrified, a part of her was honored as well.

Darkstrike would demonstrate to him that her intelligence didn't have an extent. She'd absorb any information he had to offer, and she'd prove herself not only to him, but to anyone else who thought she couldn't be victorious.

She noticed many Gladiators enter and leave... but Soundwave had yet to be included in that group. A few kliks had gone by and soon enough, the entrance was scarce of any mechs, while the training areas were generally full.

Darkstrike began to become a bit more anxious.

What if Soundwave had just set her up?

The femme had gotten her hopes up for _something, _this was a disappointment. She knew Soundwave was unpredictable... but for _him_ to make false promises?

The femme turned and began walking towards the training area, her shoulders sagging as well as her demeanor.

* * *

She decided to quit training earlier than usual.

Training was mandatory by the owners, but they only required a certain amount of time. You were allowed to leave after that, as some did, but that would only take a toll on them and their battles.

Darkstrike had hardly even done a thing, too dismayed at the fact that even Soundwave had swindled her. It made her spark hum sadly that even _he_ probably thought she was doomed. She had certain expectations towards their spar and Darkstrike had planned to give it her best.

She sighed, beginning to walk out. The flier decided that sulking in her chambers was better than sulking out in the open.

A different feeling began creeping up her spark, though Darkstrike disregarded it. Her pedesteps only continued.

Maybe Airachnid was right. That spiderbot probably knew Soundwave longer than she had. Perhaps Soundwave _was_ acquainted with the spiderbot. _Why does matter again?_ Because Soundwave probably wouldn't have stood up that infuriating femmebot. Darkstrike probably shouldn't have let Airachnid's words effect her much, but what else was there to assume?

The feeling in her spark enhanced. Darkstrike looked down at her life source, optics glaring down at the bright part of her body. The thing was only making her irk rise and she had enough of it already.

It wasn't until she felt long fingers encircle her arm that she stiffened. Her helm rose and her optics automatically flickered towards the intrusion.

Darkstrike suddenly felt herself being forcibly pulled. The fingers attached to her, belonged to a mech she recognized. Said mech hadn't actually spoken yet.

She had no idea where he was taking her; he had yet to speak or explain his actions. Though Darkstrike had been through this before. No matter how many times she'd question him, he wouldn't tell her until they got to their destination.

Darkstrike tugged at his grip, but his servo only slightly tightened.

Her optics widened, and she struggled to keep up with him. The femme had never seen him in such a hurry, though it was still a minimal effort in his standards.

Then mech had begun to slow down once they reached a more seclusive area. It was large and scrappy. That's all Darkstrike could say about it.

His fingers finally released her forearm. Soundwave stood silent and stared at her.

Darkstrike didn't want to ask any ridiculous questions, so she began analyzing his actions. It wasn't that difficult of a task. He had bought her here for a reason, not simply to amuse himself.

"We are here to spar." she inferred. Soundwave gave one nod to confirm her claim.

Her mood suddenly brightened, all previous thoughts erased from her processor. Darkstrike began to straighten her posture, a mix of thrill and fear began making her spark pulse. Her claws nervously twitched. Dim ted optics flickered towards him, then towards her pedes.

Questions suddenly began filling her processor.

_Is there anything he specifically wants me to do? Is there anything he prefers I _not_ do?_

The femme, too hesitant, didn't ask.

"Purpose: to Analyze strengths and weaknesses" he said. She understood now.

That seemed simple enough.

"Suggestion: Begin immediately."

"N-now?" she fumbled. Soundwave gave a nod.

Okay, so maybe not simple.

"I don't think this entirely fair considering you caught me off guard," she mumbled as her optics nervously looked up at him.

Soundwave faced her, watching as she got into a fighting stance.

Darkstrike was at several disadvantages there. He was obviously much more skilled than she was. She knew he wouldn't go easy on her.

_You're responsible for my offlined body_.

Soundwave made the first move. He struck lightning fast, his arm jabbing her side, causing her to nearly fall. The abrupt attack had provoked a hasty response from her.

Primus help her.

Darkstrike decided to take on the defense. Soundwave struck out easily, causing Darkstrike to remain strictly aware, never taking her optics off of his arms and servos. The manner in which he kept hitting made Darkstrike want to reconsider her strategy of defense. Though he was very precise, Soundwave never seemed to strike the same place twice.

Darkstrike had to keep her arms up in defense. Each time one of his arms would strike, it would collide hard with her forearm. Yet this defense was flawed seeing as Soundwave had more than one arm to strike with. As soon as he saw her preoccupied with a defense on one area, he'd strike on another vulnerable area.

"_Arrhg_!" she exclaimed as Soundwave took a hit at her.

She backed up, clutching her side. Taking a deep vent, she continued forward. Trying to mimic Soundwave's actions, she went straight towards the offense. It seemed clear to her that defending herself wouldn't cut it.

Darkstrike punched forward, but instead of blocking it, Soundwave simply avoided it with such grace, it made Darkstrike feel rudimentary. She stumbled forward causing Soundwave to throw a swift slice towards her wings.

They weren't sensitive, yet his actions weren't exactly gentle. Once he punched through the outer armor of her wings, the interior wouldn't be as enduring. She let out a yell full of pain, but that didn't mean she'd call it off yet, not that she was sure Soundwave would comply. He seemed to be damaging her with ease, but Darkstrike wouldn't back out because of a few scratches. If she were in a real fight, she wouldn't be able to do so.

That meant Darkstrike wouldn't call it off until she completely fell.

Soundwave took a chance and used long his arms to knock her out of balance. This seemed to work, but Darkstrike refused to let him closer. Another hit and she would have fallen, giving him the advantage. Finally being able to avoid his hits, Darkstrike gained some confidence.

His arms seemed to be too long, and this gave her some advantage. Though, his nimble movements seemed to make up for this.

The mech surprised her when he ducked towards the floors to slide his leg under her, tripping her in the process.

She roughly fell to her aft, but Darkstrike wasted no time in standing on her pedes again. He threw a punch at her and this time instead of taking it, Darkstrike avoided it barely, turning around only to throw a charged punch at him.

Soundwave caught it, and twisted her arm behind her back, in front of her wings. She was forced to the ground, as he kept her pinned behind her back.

The flier quickly had to think to get out of this. Darkstrike remembered the datapad he had given her. One of those moves had demonstrated a way to get out of that specific hold.

His weight was completely on her, preventing her from moving, only allowing her to struggle.

It also made her feel submissive. Darkstrike slightly blushed, in anger and embarrassment.

If she struggled for a little longer, she could escape him. The flier dislocated her joint, managing to free herself. The femme elbowed him hard in the side, though she missed anything that could have really wounded him.

Still this action caused Soundwave's hold loosen, giving her just enough time to roll over and kick him with both pedes at the same time.

The force pushed him back, but Soundwave landed on his pedes, brushing it off.

This was beginning to make Darkstrike angry. She was hardly getting a scratch on him! He seemed perfectly fine to continue for who knows how long, while... she...

Darkstrike charged again, narrowly dodging some of his blows, only throwing some at him when she was sure she could hit the target. More times than not, her prediction was wrong, and Soundwave would avoid them.

The deep heat and insanity from the spar was beginning to make her claws twitch. They grew hotter from then and there, but Darkstrike's mind was averted elsewhere as she struggled to stay standing.

She was becoming weary with every hit she took and gave. Any move she tried to perform from the datapad was useless. Soundwave seemed to know anticipate her moves. She should have known. After all, he had given her the datapad.

Darkstrike was losing strategy and becoming sloppy. She threw one last hit, but Soundwave grabbed not her arm, but her servo instead.

He seemed to stare directly at the appendage, momentarily stopping the spar.

_Spar? It sure seems like an aggressive spar to me. _

She struggled to take it out of his grasp and when it didn't work, the femme seethed. She growled, her internal heat fluctuating once more.

Out of nowhere, Soundwave crushed her servo with a steal grip.

The heat from her claws began faltering, causing the heat to sustain in one area. Her sensors could only register it as pain, so then Darkstrike yelled out, unable to withstand the toll of the charge. Her systems reacted to help alleviate the pain. She offlined, falling limp. Soundwave finally let go of her servo, watching her collapse.

* * *

Soundwave watched her optics glow the rich red they were, before they had completely closed at once. He looked down at her, seeing the femme all sprawled out, defeated from their spar. He was like this for a few moments. Perhaps the femme would see now that there was no mercy in fights.

The mech could simply leave her with the medic, but he'd raise suspicion with the mech. Somehow the owners would find out, especially what that nosy medic. Normally, there would be no real penalty for sparring with others, but she was a Gladiator who had a great fight scheduled soon. They wouldn't want their source of income to be damaged before the fight itself.

He knelt down and placed his arm under her back, below the base of her wings and the other arm below her upper thighs. He stood up, the weight of the femme now in his arms.

There would be no irony in this. This was not kindness. Soundwave simply didn't want to raise any suspicion or have any of the owners complaining to him. He already endured the complaining Gladiators around him.

Nonetheless, he didn't particularly feel comfortable with the femme pressed up against him. He didn't like contact and had never sought it from others (besides the femmes on certain occasions.) This was not an occasion, yet look where he currently had her.

Soundwave wasted no time in taking different routes to arrive to his chambers quicker. At times when his audios picked up pedesteps, he would divert his route towards another direction. Not a moment too soon did he reached the halls.

Fortuitously, the arena was empty and Soundwave sensed no mechs near by. He began making a move towards his door. The Gladiator was only half way there before the doors from another mech's room hissed open.

Soundwave generally didn't curse because he thought of it as primitive; however, the moment seemed appropriate for a Cybertronian curse.

He wasn't alarmed though. Other Gladiators didn't really stare at him, some in respect and some in intimidation. If they were high rankers like him, they would probably only glance at the bot in his arms, but wouldn't stare long enough to recognize it as Darkstrike.

A silver figure made his way through the halls. Soundwave realized that the only exception would be Megatronus.

The larger mech instantly spotted Soundwave.

Soundwave had no real problems with Megatronus, but that didn't mean wasn't heedful of him. They had formed a mutual respect, but trust wasn't exactly something they had. They agreed on many things and had occasionally sparred as well, but there was always that residue of tension.

"Soundwave!" Megatronus called. Remaining indifferent, he gave a nod in greeting.

Before more words escaped Megatronus' vocals, his blue optics wandered down to the femme in his arms.

"Isn't that... the Gladiator femme?" Megatronus questioned arching an optic ridge. Soundwave wasn't the type of mech to panic or show physical movement that expressed any emotion.

He gave a simple gesture of a nod. He clearly saw the smirk on Megatronus' faceplates. Soundwave didn't approve.

"So your femme is injured?" the silver mech asked.

"Femme: Not mine." he corrected again.

"So she is injured," Megatronus' inferred while raising an optic ridge.

He nodded.

"Not to worry, it is not my business, I will not question further," the larger mech said raising his servos up in defense. "I won't comment this to others, though, it doesn't seem like the most of your concerns at the moment."

While Soundwave didn't appreciate what Megatronus was insinuating, he gave a nod as subtle sign of recognition.

Perhaps Megatronus' suspicions were valid, seeing as he was always caught near her on inappropriate terms like this. Soundwave would simply take more precautions next time. Megatronus wasn't easy to fool like others, but regardless.

Finally, Soundwave unlocked the door to his chambers, quickly entering before any unannounced bots spotted him. The door shut behind him.

He lied the femme on his berth, knowing he probably could have been more gentle about it. The Gladiator saw the dents in the femme's armor, dislocated joint, an injured protoform, and the energon that threatened to leak. He had done more damage before; Soundwave wasn't fazed by this.

The femme didn't even seem to be hitching. He deduced that she would be offline for a while.

It had been an interesting spar. He had been able to learn many things about her just from her moves. The femme was a quick learner, something he found useful. She had an ability to mimic the moves if performed correctly.

Of course she still had ways to go. Darkstrike had only managed to get across a few average moves. Soundwave observed that she had _some_ good idea where to strike, but never at the right time. Her defense was not as advanced either, causing her to receive fatal blows.

He inferred, also from viewing her previous fights, that she took advantage of when her opponents were unsuspecting of imminent attack. This was how she succeeded in her battles. She had most likely expected Soundwave to let his guard down as easily.

Her claws were also something he found unusual. Every Cybertronian was unique, and her claws held something in them that wasn't found in many. He had felt the heat of them the cycle before, but he hadn't bothered too much on them.

They did leave marks on him, but it hadn't really affected Soundwave.

So he had tested a hypothesis. He wanted to see if he could somehow contain the affect of her claws, which was the reason why he had held the femme's servo in his grip. The effects somehow faltered, causing her own method of attack to betray her own body.

Soundwave would continue to spar with her for the following time until her battle came. Though, he wasn't completely doing this to help her. There was also another reason, besides the entertainment she provided. It also wasn't that he felt pity.

He had concluded much about her from the time she was in his chambers. By the way she was willingly open to assist the construction, Soundwave sensed she had intelligence. Perhaps she didn't know, but he had took the time to read over his datapad. He saw many errors corrected and notes added.

In all, the femme had taken whatever information she could attain and had used it in her favor. Darkstrike was somewhat resourceful, he inferred. He felt that she had slight potential. Soundwave wanted to see to what extent that statement could stand. The mech wanted to push her to any limits she may have.

One could say that this was not only for her, but a means of experimentation for him. Soundwave was no scientist, but it slightly satisfied him being able test her and her strength. Of course he was still her superior; these sessions would remind the femme of it.

He looked down at her unconscious form on his berth. Soundwave took a seat and began examining her injuries. He required a clearer view and for that, he'd need to remove a portion her armor.

He began doing so, beginning at her arms. Soundwave didn't remove much, but either way he was able to see more her protoform, and probably still too much than the femme would like.

Her spark lay dormant but he could see the dim glow, a sign that she was still online.

The mech looked at her side and he stood up to retrieve some of his tools. Any supplies he had for repair weren't as advanced as the ones medics used, but they would suffice. Soundwave began repairs, stopping energon from leaking while fixing the plating as well. Femme plating around the waist area was generally complex, and he didn't want to move around too much.

Yet Soundwave couldn't help but grab. His fingers barely brushed above the area. Her protoform was smooth and light, a contrast to her dark armor.

Soundwave suddenly removed his hand from the femme, as if contact would burn him. Ironic as it may seem, it already had. He felt as if he were behaving intolerable, so he focused on his previous task. Snapping the femme's joint back into place, he resumed.

Soundwave flipped her so that he could tend to her wings lastly.

Lucky for her that she didn't have the same intricate plating as seekers, otherwise this would be very painful for her, even if temporarily offline.

He removed the outer plating where he had struck and mended the wound so that energon would stop leaking. Soundwave then had to make sure the plating was placed correctly so that it wouldn't cause any more energon leaks.

The femme would be fine for now, and her systems would reboot, hopefully already building up an immunity for its own attack. Soundwave looked at the source of her main damage: her claws. He decided that since the femme was unaware of his actions, he would take a closer look.

He grabbed her servo, fingers unconsciously lacing through hers. Soundwave surveyed her claws, noticing that they still radiated with heat. The tips seemed to have a blue glow to them.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when he suddenly felt the femme's servo tighten around his.

Soundwave shifted slowly. His optics looked directly at her, only to see that she still remained offline. It must have been an involuntary response.

He didn't like it…

Her claws were long and thick, while his fingers were as long, they weren't as thick. His held an edge to them, but Soundwave didn't really use them in battle, if not curled in a fist. Her black ones with _his_… was something… he didn't completely trust, or rather didn't want to trust.

Almost immediately, the heat once in her servos had disappeared, and her normal internal temperature returned. Her optics remained shut, a sign that she was still offline, but most likely stable.

However, Darkstrike hadn't let go of her hold.

Strangely enough, neither did Soundwave.

* * *

**A/N: ****Swindle will reappear, not to worry. I also decided to give Airachnid justice seeing as her datapad was smashed. Lets face it, she can be a silver-tongue in TFP.**

**I updated earlier than usual and I feel so proud of myself. What if, I update even earlier? Make me happy and leave a review please.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: It is chapter 10 my readers! 10. I hear wonderful feedback and I'm just inspired to write more! That and a certain reader has challenged my capability to update soon. Well I have :)**

**I would have done so even sooner, but I have not finished re-watching G1. Dedicated to you all readers: the new ones and those who put up with me slacking with updates. Enjoy. **

* * *

**Acumen- _quickness and keenness of judgment or insight_**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The mech attempted to stay put in the directed area. He had been instructed to wait and to stay there, but enduring the simple task was becoming difficult with each passing klik. His surroundings were a tad intimidating and its inhabitants radiated with unfathomable strength. He had already seen a few Gladiators pass by, as was expected since he _was_ in the Pits. Some of them didn't pay him mind while others only glanced at him. They couldn't fool him though. He could somehow feel their rage towards him, regardless if it was expressed aloud or not.

The mech knew of their hate, but he didn't blame them; society had caused them to react in such a way towards bots like him.

For the moment, he could only sympathize, though he had a feeling they wouldn't be as kind to him. It was best not speak to any of the mechs, regardless of his thoughts. They had weapons on them while he didn't, they had _much_ shorter temper, and he only had words at his disposal. That didn't mean his only weapon wouldn't come stab him in the back, all it took was a few words for them to lash out.

In conclusion, he didn't speak to them. The most he did was return the occasional nod. The mech understood not to interact with the Gladiators, knowing they were capable of much. Many wouldn't even consider coming to Kaon practically defenseless or without company. Anyone would consider him crazy or unbelievable for his stunt. But this mech wasn't like many; he hadn't cowered in traveling from his home Iacon to the city of Kaon.

One great reason being that he had already been to this great city. At least he had _some _experience on his side. Small or not, it counted. Experience, however, only went so far.

He never bothered with Gladiator fights, instead finding them very intense and cringeworthy. They weren't technically illegal, that is, if the owners could prove that they weren't treating the bots with any cruelty. More times than not, energon coins were involved in keeping the silence among them.

These thoughts were certainly not helping him overcome his current concern. The mech began growing more nervous as his friend took his sweet time in appearing.

True, he was a punctual bot, and had even taken the liberty to arrive earlier than instructed, but it didn't seem to help him in his case. In other words, it had been a complete mistake. It turned out that Gladiators were not punctual, and he was the one who had to pay the small price for it. In his thoughts, at least he knew that he had tried, and effort was key.

The mech's blue optics roamed around the area, taking note of the conditions. It was a wonderful way to relieve himself of his thoughts. Perhaps if he provided additional facts about the place, it wouldn't seem as intimidating.

He thought for a moment. _This was one of the largest arenas in Kaon. About 100 to 200 mechs inhabited the area. The owners made immense profit..._ the mech stopped to look around.

It wasn't the datapads that told him that the conditions were below average. Surely, with the amount of currency the owners made, they couldn't afford something more stable? The only response the mech could think of, was that they didn't feel obligated to lift a digit. He didn't live there, but even so, he didn't approve of this.

The blue opticed mech couldn't do anything about it now, not after knowing how long it's been going on. This was a sport to many in Kaon, and this was how they could earn a living. His friend had explained such things, but he was a curious one. This mech wanted to know everything, if that was possible, but it seemed to be a touchy subject for his friend, therefore he didn't push any further.

His pedes slightly shifted after standing in the same place for a while. Speaking of his friend, why hadn't he appeared yet? The mech leaned on the wall, either way knowing he would be patient for his friend. He wasn't sure what was keeping him, but he would wait, seeing as he really wasn't sure what Gladiators had to do. He was sure his friend had a valid reason, he always did.

The mech regained his posture when his audio receptors picked up on the pedesteps coming his way. His servos were placed behind his back as he stared at the wall before him. This was the only position that helped him relax without seeming ridiculous.

The steps seemed to slow down as they reached closer to him. The mech was beginning to wonder if it was his friend who was finally joining him. Though, the pedesteps were softer than the thundering ones his friend usually made. His question finally received an answer when his optics were able to detect the other mech's presence. He suddenly realized his mistake when he discovered that the bot was actually a femme.

Her red optics only momentarily glanced at him before looking away. She turned around at first, taking a few moments to observe and look around before she faced his direction. The femme advanced forward, not paying him any mind. Her helm turned and optics roamed the area.

It was as if she was seeking out someone. Unlike the others that had come by, she didn't immediately leave.

Though, her presence didn't necessarily mean that she was comfortable, on the contrary, her posture gave him the idea that she was wary of him. He was aware of her skittering steps and skittish movements.

It took a few kliks before she eventually stopped at a distance from him. He didn't exactly have a strong intuition, but even he could see the way her optics flickered and fingers—make that claws— seemed to twitch. Her behavior almost surprised him. He was anything but hostile. The mech really didn't want to make her nervous, he didn't enjoy watching her anxiety.

He turned in her direction, simply staring until he was sure her attention was on him. As planned, she eventually did take notice of him. Their optics met and the mech mustered up the warmest smile he could. This action caught the femme off guard and she suddenly looked away, either in surprise or indifference, he couldn't tell.

The mech decided that perhaps speaking to her would ease her nerves.

"Are you looking for someone?" he questioned. His voice immediately caught her attention, faster than his staring did. Her red optics were wide but as they turned to him, they narrowed. The femme eyed him, as if skeptical of his intentions. He had made sure that his posture looked as nonthreatening as he could make it.

His own blue optics observed the bot before him. The femme looked young, and was he knew about the behavior of barely matured bots; he wouldn't want to give her any wrong idea. This encouraged him to be more careful.

"Yes I am..." she replied slowly. He was careful to keep the distance between them, knowing that it could easily set her off.

"It's probably a coincidence that I am too." he said nodding. Her optic ridges furrowed.

"You're here for official purposes?" she asked.

"That is somewhat true." the mech said. While he was also there to see his friend, their meeting also had an intended purpose.

"You're waiting for the owners." she assumed. He shook his helm.

"I am here for a friend of mine; he is a Gladiator." the mech replied.

"Oh." was her response. A few moments of silence followed, before she made any intentions of taking to him.

"You're not from around here... correct?" she inferred.

"You are correct," he stated. The mech saw no harm in the femme, but rather curiosity. Her optics studied him now as if gathering information. The mech didn't mind, simply looking at him wouldn't give her much info.

Seeing no harm in doing so, the mech took the next step and decided to introduce himself.

"My name is Orion." he stated, extending an arm. She looked down at it for a moment. Her optics drifted from his faceplates, to his arm, down to the servo that hadn't retreated.

"Darkstike." she replied grasping his servo. Orion smiled at her. It was a good start, seeing as her insistent movement had ceased. Although she still didn't seem too keen on speaking, Orion continued with harmless questions.

"I assume you're also waiting for someone." he said. Mentioning it caused a slight tint of blue on the femme's faceplates.

"Yeah..." she trailed off.

"Are you also on business purposes?" Orion questioned.

"Yes." Darkstrike immediately responded. The answer seemed a bit too quick to be true, but Orion wouldn't interject. He preferred not to think the worst of bots and it would be the same with this young femme.

"Is he a Gladiator as well?" he asked. Her optics widened at him.

"Um... yes, but don't misinterpret. It's the type of business that will lead to my success."

"Rest assured, I was not going to jump to conclusions." he said. She slightly smiled and opened her mouth, as if about to say something herself. However, she quickly silenced herself, the words seeming to die on her vocalizer.

"It was nice to meet you, Orion, but it looks like my waiting is over." Darkstrike said.

"You're leaving?" he asked. He hoped he hadn't said anything wrong.

"Yes, I see the bot who I was waiting for." the femme replied.

"Then I won't keep you waiting. I wish you luck. I hope to encounter again, Darkstrike." he smiled at her. She nodded as a final goodbye before rushing ahead.

Intrigued, Orion didn't stop himself from following the femme's steps. Not far from him, she had met up with a mech he did not recognize. Seeing as it was not his business, he returned to the same place he had been waiting for his friend.

The company had been refreshing while it lasted.

"It seems you've made a friend while I was gone."

The sudden voice was enough to make him jump in disconcert. His blue optics turned to his left, clarifying that it was his friend who'd caused him to jolt. The large powerful mech stood above him, a face reflecting his amusement.

"Megatronus," Orion said.

"I'm glad you talked to _someone,_" the Gladiator remarked. Orion didn't take his friend's light banter seriously.

"You instructed me not to speak with anybot." he said. Megatronus gave a light shrug.

"I've said a lot of things." he replied.

"Yes but you were specific this time."

"Yet you still became acquainted with Darkstrike." he responded. Orion completely turned towards his friend.

"You know who she is?" the smaller mech asked.

"Yes, I've seen some of her fights." Megatronus dimly replied.

"She is a Gladiator?" Orion questioned unable to hide his slight shock, "She seems so young still."

"I was even younger." Megatronus said. Orion detected that the other mech was resentful. He had wanted to gain information from him yes, but even Orion had limits. He didn't want to pester the larger mech as much as he already did. They were better off leaving the subject alone.

"Lets go, I remember _you_ were the one jumping eagerly to show me something?"

Orion nodded. "I found the information you were searching for."

* * *

Darkstrike slightly glanced back at Orion before shrugging him off. She had already suspected his origins of a higher caste simply based on his appearance. His armor was shiny, his stance was tall, optics a shiny blue, not to say some Gladiators didn't have blue optics. Yet Orion had worn something other mechs didn't: a friendly smile. She never could distinguish which ones were genuine, causing her to trust the wrong bots. Orion, on the other servo, had seemed harmless and his words weren't threatening or leering. The mech had willingly began a conversation with her, even knowing that he was probably above her. Not to mention his friend was a Gladiator as well. Then again, he might have been lying...

She wasn't all that keen on talking to him even if he was behaving quite polite to her. Only because his questions were more inquiring than forcing, she didn't see wrong in answering them.

_Psh, I reveal more to mechs like Swindle and Magnesium._

Darkstrike wasn't accustomed to mechs without intentions, even in her previous caste, which was why she held some distrust for Orion. He held sincerity that Darkstrike couldn't be sure of. The mech actually seemed honest, but Darkstrike was still uncertain. The femme wasn't sure if they would meet again, but it had been an interesting conversation.

Soundwave, for the most part, hadn't commented, not that he spoke much anyways. This was understandable, Darkstrike hadn't expected him to care who she acquainted herself with. (Thought she was sure that the telepath knew more than he let on.) She was perfectly okay with the fact, Darkstrike _tried_ not to intrude in Soundwave's business either.

The silence between her and Soundwave lasted up to the moment they arrived to their designated area. It was the same place where they had sparred yesterday, with the exception that _today_, Darkstrike was determined not to embarrassingly offline. It would be less of an issue for both bots. The more she could endure, the less he had to heal her again. Maybe it wasn't that Darkstrike _minded_ what he did, but if such a situation occurred again—which the femme doubted, it would be nice if Darkstrike was online before she was stripped of her armor.

A familiar cold gaze was enough to grab her attention. _Maybe it's just the visor. _

Soundwave motioned her in his direction. She walked over to him, unsure what exactly he was going to do, not that she ever really knew.

Her question was answered when he abruptly threw a punch at her. It was so sudden, Darkstrike wasn't able to register the movement quick enough to dodge it. However, before his fist could smash against her faceplates, he stopped. Her optics had involuntarily closed. When the impact never came, the red orbs opened.

His fist hadn't moved, but neither had she, too shocked with what had happened, or rather what had almost happened.

"Reflexes require improvement." he stated.

Darkstrike finally reacted and did the only sensible thing that came to mind: to move out of the way. She scurried away, sighing in relief. It took a moment to compose herself.

Her optics drifted towards his reflective visor. "So you want me to practice my reflexes." she deduced. Soundwave's response was violence, as he aimed another well calibrated attack towards her side. His servo successfully made contact with its target, causing to her to stumble and try to balance herself.

"Affirmative."

_That little slagger._

_He_ was going to help her practice her reflexes, Darkstrike realized.

"Am I allowed to hit back?" she asked. A simple shake of his helm was his response.

_Damn, he really isn't making this easy for me, is he?_

Soundwave made the first move, slightly startling Darkstrike. So began another journey of eventually lying in berth in pain.

Darkstrike did give him credit for beginning with simple moves. She assumed they were simple, not that she was completely aware of his attacks.

First began the attacks aimed at her weakest area: her sides. This was a section of her frame where her protoform was exposed. She should have assumed that this was the part of her most likely to be aimed at. Darkstrike knew that her opponent would seek out the most vulnerable parts of her, somewhat like Soundwave was doing. This was her encouragement to prevent her opponent from taking any fatal hits in such regions.

Despite how aware she claimed to be, Soundwave still took clear hits at her, his precision sharp enough to slice her in half.

Soundwave resumed, swinging his arm in her direction. Darkstrike stepped back before being backhanded. The femme looked away for a moment. She realized this mistake when Soundwave kicked her down. The femme's aft met the floor, unfortunately not for the first time. The mech halted, giving her enough time to compose herself. Darkstrike sighed in frustration before standing up on her pedes.

"Two opponents: Requiring more attention." he said. In the back of her mind she understood exactly what he was saying, but she didn't want to accept it. Fighting two mechs meant more awareness. How in Primus' sake was she supposed to be aware of two mechs when she could hardly do so with this one.

"Task: requires undivided attention." he spoke again. Her optics slightly twitched.

"All of my attention is on you." she said in defense. Her words could have easily been placed out of context to mean something else, but Darkstrike ignored this.

Soundwave pointed towards her helm. "Mind: Not honed."

"How do you know that?" she asked. Her tone seemed to have quieted when she realized the answer to her own question. Was he _purposely_ listening to her thoughts? It was hard to tell when she couldn't surmise _any_ emotions from him. She turned away from him, slightly growling, unsure whether because of him or herself.

Darkstrike abruptly registered a pain emanating from her backstruts. She yelled out in pain and turned around, only to see Soundwave standing there calmly. A tendril extended from her body. Her optics narrowed in a glare, despite knowing he would ignore it. The femme was beginning to suspect he was purposely trying to anger her.

"Never turn back on opponents." Soundwave replied.

The stubborn femme didn't want to listen to him, not in the way he was teaching her, but she knew that each hit he took was another lesson to stay alert. It was time to gain as much knowledge as she could from the mech who was willing to teach her, despite his _methods_.

Darkstrike knew she had the tendency to let her mind roam freely, but in combat, the femme would have to prevent this if she wanted minimal damage. She vented out to calm herself.

"Understood." she stated.

"Concentrate on movements only." he said. For once. he voiced a suggestion that didn't insult her at the same time.

Her optics looked at the two long tendrils that had extended from his body. They seemed to go for miles. They were dark with violet biolights circling throughout the whole length. The ends were sharp, meant for grabbing things. Darkstrike had never seen any Cybertronian with this frame design. Soundwave never really unsheathed his tendrils in front of her, and Darkstrike couldn't help but marvel the potential danger.

Much to her relief, he began with simple tactics again. The tendrils retreated to his frame. Darkstrike looked at his long arms, knowing that they could reach far if he wanted to.

Okay, so she was focused on him, that was a start. Her audio receptors had tuned up, making sure her processor was no longer bombarded with trivial emotions.

He struck at her on her left, but it had collided with her forearm as defense. Her optics looked to her right, a reaction caused by the light wind indicating some type of movement. It was all happening so quickly that if Darkstrike hadn't been in a right mind, she could have been overwhelmed by it. However, she was honed, and she was able to detect it. Without missing a beat, she stepped back, narrowly dodging the blow.

It took a moment for the femme to realized that she was unscathed. Her optics widened, yet she fought the urge to smile in triumph. They weren't finished. Darkstrike soon sensed more movements, which only meant that Soundwave wasn't done.

* * *

**A New Cycle**

Once being able to hone her reflexes, defense became relatively quick to learn. It was no surprise that Soundwave had wanted her to learn more attacks in the same cycle. Darkstrike was willing to endure what he thought she was capable of. She hadn't dropped down yet, but she had already danced on the fine line that was her limits.

Today, the femme would be the one throwing the punches and Soundwave would be the one dodging them. In theory, it seemed like an easy exercise since _she_ wouldn't have to be avoiding those deadly blows. Be as it may, Darkstrike discovered that if the mech had another talent, it would be steering clear of her own punches.

It was becoming increasingly frustrating watching the mech dodge, or receive her combat painlessly. He seemed to be doing it with ease. It was like aiming at a target that disappeared every time she was ready to strike. She tried to remain focused on Soundwave as a target, but Primus, this mech seemed to be everywhere.

It vexed her so much, Darkstrike began erratically throwing punches only for them to successfully hit the air.

"How am I supposed to hit you if you keep moving?" she stubbornly growled. Soundwave looked at her.

"Predict Soundwave's movements." he said. There were many possibilities towards where he could move, how was she supposed to determine his final actions? "Always expect movement." Soundwave stated.

"Understood." she replied.

So it began again.

Her hits were either dodged or blocked, and the ones that did reach him were weak. Darkstrike didn't understand why she wasn't delivering blows like she should. He had told her to expect movement, but that was like telling her to expect the unpredictable. Where and when he would dodge Darkstrike's attacks were beyond her.

Darkstrike could feel the movement when something was attacking her, but it was difficult doing so when being the attacker. Her exasperation began to become obvious and Soundwave stopped moving to get her attention. He easily caught the flimsy punch she threw at him.

"Your movements are limited. Use other strategy, excluding claws." he said.

"Understood." she replied. He distanced himself from her.

For the first time that cycle, she did understand. Darkstrike had been limiting herself to only throwing punches. The femme had plenty of other limbs to use and other strategies to perform. Soundwave had warned her about using her claws so for now, that would remain taboo.

She threw a punch, but wasn't angry when it was blocked by Soundwave, as she had already suspected this. Shifting quickly, Darkstrike extended her leg to strike his arm with her pede. She heard the metal collide like music in her audio receptors. Soundwave was pushed back from the force.

As the last occasion, Darkstrike refrained from celebration, knowing Soundwave wouldn't cease just yet.

* * *

**A New Cycle**

Soundwave had decided it was the _perfect _opportunity to test her speed, agility _and _strength at the _same_ time. It was also a refreshing change of scenery since the mech had decided to be outside. He had also chosen late joors so that they weren't seen. Darkstrike was none too happy about this, yet like many other times, she had complied. Of course, her vocals had emitted the occasional grumble and complain.

Today, her instructions were to push a giant metallic structure as quickly as she could. In her processor, the femme had actually thought it to be an effortless task, but oh no, life just _had_ to laugh at her.

Along with pushing it, Soundwave would also be throwing scrap and surprise attacking her the whole time. Darkstrike was allowed to stop when she had finishing lugging the big piece of metal towards its assigned destination.

The femme let out a growl as she pushed against the large metal, only moving it at certain intervals. Detecting movement, the femme jumped atop of the metal and flipped backwards so that she could avoid his tendrils. When Soundwave had revealed them again, it had been fascinating the way the two long appendages extended, the glowing biolights around them captivating her attention.

Her arms began to shake at the amount of force she willed herself to use. The femme's pedes dug into the ground as she pushed forward. Her vents began drawing out and the center of her frame extended, reminding her that her arms weren't the only ones taking the toll.

Darkstrike was shoved to her aft from the tendrils of a certain mech. She soon began rethinking her slight appeal to those treacherous things.

Darkstrike threw a glare at Soundwave. She regretted this immediately because he didn't seem to appreciate her sincere expression. When she stood up, the mech _doubled_ his efforts to knock her down, much to her chagrin. Darkstrike feared that if she wasn't quick enough, those things would wrap around her and squeeze her until her plating disassembled.

Each time the femme advanced, the metal seemed to become much heavier to her. Darkstrike had to lug the thing with her whole upper body if she wanted to finish soon. Again, his tendril began snaking away towards her. She lowered her helm, her optics catching sight of it. She leaned on the metal to rise and jump over the thing. Her vents were becoming as heavy as the metal she was shoving.

Darkstrike was so close. Her cooling fans were on high and she was about ready to finish. Her pedes began impatiently kicking the large object multiple times. Her frame quivered from how weary she was and how close she was to falling in defeat.

Mustering up any residue strength, Darkstrike spun and booted the metal to its marked finish line.

She looked over at Soundwave and saw his tendrils retract into him.

At last! This time, Soundwave was done. There was no more, and she could feel accomplished.

Darkstrike tumbled to the ground, landing on her front side. The femme hadn't offlined, but she had dropped down from exhaustion. The ground felt warm while she pressed against it, apparently comforting her aching joints. She was so preoccupied in rest, her hope for celebration was delayed again.

* * *

**A New Cycle**

Soundwave knew about the ability of her claws, but he prevented her from using them against him, especially during their spars. Darkstrike heeded his warning because she knew that the consequences wouldn't be too pretty if she ignored him.

Many times, she had to bite her glossa because her complains had become a bad habit of hers. Soundwave didn't like them and he wasn't stupid, so remarking behind his back wasn't an option.

The femme also feared he would wrap his tendrils around her and that wouldn't be pleasant.

So today's spar would not involve her claws, unfortunately. It was a one on one fight involving the use of weapons. They had already practiced with weapons, but this was the final step to complete her training. This cycle would involve everything she had learned, meaning Soundwave would have access to everything as well.

... And it turned out Soundwave was good with a sword too.

_Frag, was there anything this mech isn't good at? _

The femme would never repeat this out loud, or even in her _mind_, but that mech definitely had the Gladiator experience most would envy. Soundwave... well... he was everything she strived to be. If anyone found that out, Darkstrike wasn't sure what she would do. The mech already thought himself superior enough, no need to encourage it. In all, her role model was a Gladiator...

_Figures_...

Well, on the bright side, who could say that they've sparred with their role model? Even though Darkstrike didn't really know what they were doing anymore. They were supposed to be sparring, and of all times she had expected to go hard on her... he didn't really. It had been actually somewhat confusing.

The metal of their swords collided perfectly, small sparks cascading on her armor as a result. It was a standard procedure, Soundwave immediately took the advantage and they would continue from there. Darkstrike didn't expect anything different, he could over power her when he wanted. In spite of this, he had drawn out the spar, as if preserving every minute of it.

Defeat was inevitable but she would hold her ground for as long as possible.

Though Soundwave and her weren't even sparring anymore, it seemed. She usually gained damage during training, knowing how Soundwave was. Darkstrike was actually making similarities to them _dancing_, as bewildering as it may seem. Having the upper hand meant he was the one leading. Darkstrike was the one reacting and following.

When his sword struck, she defended herself, preventing him from leaving a mark. Soundwave attempted another angle, but Darkstrike was quick to discover the attack. It was almost erratic the way they were moving. The femme traveled with him, fearing that if she created distance he would trip her. Her arms endured as she swung left, right, below, and above. It was almost a test to see who could keep up the dance and who would succumb to failure. Both bots continued to synchronize their attacks, always moving together. Darkstrike was aware that Soundwave had missed opportunities to bash at her only to continue this.

Soundwave swung forcibly, causing her to stumble. Darkstrike rolled to her side and stood on her pedes quickly, ready to counter attack any move. He swung again. She had accounted for everything,

except for her sword breaking.

She cursed aloud. The femme stood in a battle stance, nervously clutching the end of the sword that remained. Soundwave stopped, interrupting their dance -er spar. The black reflection of his visor turned to the sword he gripped. Much to her shock, the mech made the valiant decision to drop it.

The metal dramatically landed on the ground with a loud 'clank'. Soundwave stood in position, and their spar resumed. Not to long after, the dance-like movements returned, adjusting to their tactics.

Darkstrike was sure that in the end, there would be slight energon, dented armor, a damaged protoform, and an aching frame. Her sword was the one to take the hit before, now it was her to take the damage. It was now starting to seem like their usual spars.

Their fight had consisted of multiple punches, very good defense, and fancy moves such as flips and spins. As Darkstrike said before, she had no idea what they were doing.

_Then why am I enjoying it?_

Soundwave suddenly broke the rhythm they had created. His servo latched on to her wrist, spinning her in a flurry of movements, finishing off by slamming her on to the ground. He pinned her there, his lithe fingers on either side of her wrists. Their proximity was so close, their frames were practically flush together. There was no getting out of this hold anymore, Darkstrike had lost, and their spar came to an end.

The femme vented in and out, her chassis moving against Soundwave's. Their sparks were dangerously close to one another, causing a pleasant reaction on both ends. Her white faceplates glistened with blue and her mouth curled into an excited smile. Darkstrike's aching body welcomed the alleviation the ground provided. The energon inside of her steamed as a result of her exhilaration. She was so enraptured in the moment, she almost forgot how long the mech had been on top of her.

The smile remained permanently glued to her faceplates even as she realized the searing contact. Despite being dominated by the more experienced Gladiator, she beamed brightly. Darkstrike was very pleased with herself. Her blush deepened further just as the color in her optics. Looking up at Soundwave only meant looking up at her reflection.

The femme audaciously winked at him. Soundwave released her wrists, a servos drifting towards her chin while the other settled on her abdomen. His thumb held to her chin before he shook her helm for a few nano-kliks. The other servo was a little too feely onto her exposed protoform, but had caused her to experience pleasant sensations. The action caused her optics to close, but her smile never faded. The excitement of finishing her training was too great.

She wondered if it were from the rush she was feeling, or the wonderfully overwhelming moment, but she had almost instinctively latched onto whatever piece of Soundwave she could find. Her claws dug into his armor, causing him to freeze.

His fingers tightened causing an unwanted gasp from the body underneath him. Soundwave tilted the femme's chin towards him and he looked directly at her in all his intimidating silence, almost as if reminding her she was pushing her luck.

She removed those deadly appendages from his frame, unable to process that she had been the one to do that.

Soundwave immediately stood up, while Darkstrike continued to enjoy the pleasant buzz her systems made. The mech watched as the femme lazily lounged on the floor. Her arms and legs were sprawled out in a casual fashion and her optics looked up at the ceiling.

"This is the last cycle of my training. My battle is tomorrow." she stated. Both of them already knew that, though. Lanyard _had_ been the one to bestow upon the wonderful news.

Soundwave didn't respond.

"I want to thank you, Soundwave, for whatever reason you helped me." Darkstrike wasn't sure how to display gratitude towards the usually indifferent mech. He looked at her, and chances were that he would stay silent or say something that would intentionally insult her. In fear of getting rejected like most times, her lips didn't utter a word more. Instead, she spoke of something else to change the sappy awkward conversation this was leading to.

"Anyways," she began, "I'm assuming this means you believe I have a chance on beating two mechs?" Darkstrike questioned aloud. Her optics slowly landed on the mech, eager of his response.

She initially thought his response would none at all, knowing that many times that was the case, but the mech had graced her with a simple nod.

"You would be the only." she shrugged, "Not that it's of importance." The femme had tried to hide her dismay at the fact, but she knew Soundwave had sensed it anyways. Darkstrike closed her optics, knowing that she was very easy to read, especially for an intelligent mech like him.

Seeing as he chose silence as his answer, she resumed voicing what was on her mind.

"Have you ever battled against two mechs?" she inquired.

"..."

Her optics opened to see if she had missed any subtle gesture and it turned out that she hadn't.

"Question: irrelevant. Inquiries: useless." he responded. Darkstrike gave him a sidelong glance before furrowing her optic ridges.

"Oh..." she mumbled. Darkstrike admitted she did feel foolish and a bit embarrassed that she had thought this had been a good idea. The handful of mechs Darkstrike knew had always been quite talkative, always bragging about their accomplishments when given the chance.

Then again, Soundwave wasn't like the other mechs. It seemed like she had to keep reminding herself this. The femme visibly deflated and her smile had lowered.

She watched him as he walked around her to retrieve his sword. It seemed he had put some distance between them.

_Funny, he wasn't doing that earlier. _

True, her question wasn't important and she could have lived the rest of her life without knowing the response to it, but the way Soundwave simply brushed it off as trivial was just… It almost offended her how quickly he did so. She had known him since literally her first day there. They weren't what one would call best friends, but it counted for _something_.

_What did you expect, to be holding hands and skipping through the corridors?_

She glared at the ceiling. She wasn't expecting spark-bonding, but at least a word from him would be sufficient for her. What did it matter if she asked a stupid question anyways? It wasn't as if he'd reveal his whole life with answering it.

Attempting to be slick, she asked him again. It wasn't like she had anything to lose.

"Did you win?"

Soundwave didn't say anything at first, her words lingering as if she hadn't even said a word. He finally spared her a glance. He acknowledged her, and as if simply to humor her he responded, "Affirmative."

Darkstrike's smile returned as she sat in the blissful silence she'd known from the mech. Soundwave hadn't made a move to leave, staying to polish his sword, and the femme hadn't stood up, feeling wonderful with not even Soundwave ruining her mood. Darkstrike wasn't sure if it was the same for him, but she enjoyed his company. After feeling alone for vorns, even back then, while she had been in her home city as well, it was welcoming feeling the presence of another.

* * *

Swindle looked down at his coins, separately counting each one for their individual value. All of them laid messily in one pile, but that didn't stop him from counting them. It was a tedious task that he performed for as long as necessary. The purple-opticed mech had even grew fond of it, the action easing his nerves when agitated.

At times, he really needed something to pacify himself. The salemech ran a precise business, having the strong reputation of being in possession of everything. This background information only encouraged the mechs to buy more from him. Swindle was efficient and having a sharp glossa certainly helped.

He was intelligent, knowing when to go for the grab and when the opportunity was right. If he hadn't been this cunning, his was doomed for failure, and Swindle did not accept defeat. He had one of the most successful business out there, not only trading items, but information as well. The amount of mechs and femmes he knew, definitely promised a good deal of secrets from then and there. He had a lot of power overall, especially since their planet was one dominated by corrupt mechs. He dealt with them on a daily basis, and knowing how to mangle with them meant having as much proficiency as them. Such nice mechs they can be with an utter of some words.

"Battlesmash!" he called out towards his business partner. The mech perked up, signaling that he had his attention. "Do you have everything packed to go into the city?"

"We don't go till three cycles from today." said mech responded.

"Well you're standing there doing nothing, I assumed you had done at least something." Swindle's voice held a perfect blend of mock and sarcasm. His unusual optics narrowed at the other mech. Battlesmash grumbled and stood up, dusting himself off. The salesmech shook his helm before turning towards his other apprentice.

Drixco eagerly looked down at his datapad, drool almost coming out of his mouth. Swindle didn't even have to guess what he was probably looking at. He deadpanned and strolled over towards the unsuspecting mech. Swindle allowed a few moments of joy for his smaller apprentice. A few raspy chuckles escaped Drixco's vocals before Swindle quickly snatched up the datapad. The apprentice jumped in the air at the intrusion.

He turned to glare at the attacker, but dropped the gesture when he saw it was Swindle.

"Hey boss..." Drixco sheepishly smiled. Swindle gave him a look to show he was unimpressed. The salesmech took a look at the datapad only to see provocative images. He raised an optic ridge narrowing his optics at such pictures.

"Where did you- never mind," he said, preferring not to ask the origins of the datapad, "Have you located the femme?"

Drixco looked at him in confusion making Swindle roll his optics.

"The seeker." he clarified.

"Ohhh... that. Battlesmash said he'd do it." Drixco shrugged. The other mech seemed to hear his statement and jumped up in defense.

"Hey! I'm the one packing this slag, why don't you do something for once, Glitch?" Battlesmash retorted. The apprentice bristled and glared at the larger bot.

"He has a point." interrupted Swindle. Drixco's optics widened in offense.

"I do plenty of things around here!" he exclaimed. Swindle and Battlesmash exchanged glances before breaking out in laughter. The salesmech discarded of the datapad, too preoccupied in the humor they found in Drixco's words.

"You do about as much as what that wall does." Swindle pointed.

"Well if you don't appreciate what I do, then why don't you call in your ol' pal Blast Off?" Drixco asked. The mention of the name caused Swindle to scowl. The smaller apprentice recoiled realizing he had made his boss angry.

"Maybe I will. His ego may be larger than yours, but at least he's useful," Swindle said calmly, hints of passive-aggressiveness in his tone.

It was not the first time Drixco had slacked off and ruined business for him. Less business meant less _goods_. But what really annoyed the usually calm Swindle, was the mention of Blast Off. He'd rather not speak with that mech, or Onslaught for that matter, but _especially_ Blast Off. That snobby mech always came crying to him when he was lonely... _Hmm_, rivaled intelligence his aft.

"So that's it for you then. I'd say it was a pleasure doing business with you... but... it wasn't." his tone was sly with slight amusement in it.

"What? You can't actually be serious?"

"I'm obligated to make decisions for the purpose of my own benefit." Swindle smirked. Drixco appeared baffled at the sudden turn of events. His optics were wide and his posture remained frozen. "No one knows that door better than you." he chuckled.

The ex-apprentice threw him a glare. Without taking his optics off him, much to Swindle's amusement, Drixco made a move to exit the room.

"He's not insulting you this time, that's refreashin'" Batttlesmash remarked in the corner, "He's not putting up much of a fight either."

Swindle nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms, "Less work for you, and more coins for me." Both of them shared a taunting laugh.

Just as Drixco rounded the corner, a certain femme happened to be entering at the same time. The femme somehow saw it coming, and immediately avoided collision with the mech. The fast movement was enough to startle Drixco.

The mech looked at her with wide optics. He seemed to recognize the "seeker" and he turned to Swindle, "Well there's the femme for ya!" he yelled.

Swindle read the look of confusion she wore as she hesitantly entered.

"Am I interrupting?" Darkstrike asked.

Swindle plastered a smirk on his faceplates, allowing the femme to follow him. Purple optics met Battlesmash's red ones. He motioned towards the door, just in case the femme wanted to try anything funny.

"Darkstrike, I missed you," Swindle hummed behind the counter. He leaned on an arm, watching the femme. Darkstrike seemed to pick up on his tone and frowned.

"I doubt that." she stated. The arms dealer noticed the fresh wounds that decorated her frame. His optics searched her faceplates, and he internally became surprised at the lack of scar he had left her. It had been a while since he had given it to her and its intended purpose was for it to worsen.

"I want to remind you that I still intend to keep our bargain." she said.

"Is that so? I'm not seeing anything on you." Swindle remarked arching an optic ridge.

"I'll have it to you by tomorrow." the femme stated slightly grinning.

"Tomorrow?" he chuckled, "You seem so sure of it."

The femme leaned closer, her smile widening into a grin. "That's because I am."

"Well you see, I'm not all too happy with late deliveries." Swindle stated. His tone was melodramatic, and he shook his head, as if scolding her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You owe me, not only a free ticket, but for having me wait this long." he said, his tone growing even more dramatic.

"What... but- you can't be serious!" she exclaimed.

"Trust me, Sweetspark, you're not the first one to say that to me." He chuckled smoothly. She crossed her arms while glaring at him.

"What do you want now?" she sighed.

"Your fight is tomorrow, isn't it?" he questioned. Swindle was familiar with the battles that took place in the Pits. This femme had been the cause of some controversial conversations out in the city. The fight between a femme and two mechs was something to murmur.

"Who told you?" Darkstrike questioned as if accusing him.

"Oh I don't reveal my contacts that easily, but if you're curious… I'd be willing to share."

It wasn't what one would call top secret information. Anyone who knew the Pits were talking about this fight. Many were going to seek entertainment from a good show, that's all it was.

"For a price..." she said.

"You speak my language." he grinned. She sighed unhappily. "Look, Sweetspark, it's not really a secret, sponsors have taken care of that."

"Yeah, I'm aware _who_ was the doing that." the femme responded. Swindle's grin morphed into an obvious smirk. He slammed his servos hard on the counter, startling the femme. Darkstrike rushed back, as if avoiding the hit that would never come.

"So you know her?" he casually asked.

She crossed her arms, turning around so that her back, or rather her wings unceremoniously leaned on the counter.

"Does that spider come here often?" Darkstrike asked. By the sounds of it, there was distaste from her part.

"Do you mind, Airachnid?" he asked innocently. If she had been facing him, the femme would have been able to clearly see his amused smirk.

"You know her too? You must know everyone." the femme exclaimed turning around once again.

"Oh I know her alright..." he licked his lips as if to prove his claim. A shudder ran through Darkstrike. The other bot openly grimaced at him, arching an optic ridge.

"I—I..." a blush overcame her and her red optics drifted away.

"So about your fight." Swindle took a few steps back, letting the femme process his words and compose herself.

"Oh yeah, r-right..." she stuttered. Darkstrike stood up straight, her face turned in his direction whilst her optics met his.

"I want the weapon of one of the mechs you face. It's all the same to me if you win or not." he replied. Her optics didn't leave his. In situations like these, it was either a sign of respect or challenge.

"I'll have your ticket and the sword by tomorrow, after my fight."

"And if you don't?"

"I know what I'm doing." she said, determination and anger directed at him.

He closed his optics and grinned prominently. "Oh-ho, if you say so. I'm always willing to make another deal if you're unable to provide..."

Her claws touched her face before narrowing her optics warily. "It pains me to have to..." she stood silent trying to find the right word to use "_decline_."

"Offer still stands," he leered waving his servo in a convincing manner. The femme rattled her wings and gave a slight huff.

"I'm not as gullible as last time." Darkstrike stated triumphantly. Pleased with herself, she placed her servos on her hips. Her smile was proud and it seemed to amuse him more than it befuddled him.

"It seems that my mark is gone too. Not that I doubted your capabilities, Darkstrike." he said slyly. The femme visibly tensed.

"I'm capable of a lot, it's not that surprising." the femme replied. He had the feeling she was bluffing.

"_Sure_... You happened to have the right material I guess." he shrugged indifferently.

"Exactly." Darkstrike responded while giving a nod.

"I'm impressed you went to Kaon's central to get it." Swindle continued, appearing uninterested in the subject. When she didn't respond, his optics leisurely elevated towards her.

"I-... I'm not really sure how to accept your compliment..." she began, "But thanks. So excuse me, _Swindle_, I have to go prepare for my fight."

He shrugged and flashed her a smile.

"Come again soon. Hope to see you again as soon as tomorrow." he said. His purple optics were downcast at the glowing coins. Swindle resumed his counting, although he was completely aware the femme.

"Not like I have a choice..." she mumbled. Battlesmash moved away from the door, allowing the femme to depart. The larger mech looked at Swindle, and the arms dealer didn't have to look up to sense the other mech's confusion.

"Ey Boss, I thought you said you could only get that stuff in Iacon."

"I did."

"Then why'd you say Kaon's central?" Battlesmash asked.

"You see Battlesmash, I tend to remember most of my customers, and well, not all of them are satisfied with my business."

"What's that gotta do with anything?" the other mech asked. Swindle gave an exaggerated sigh at the other mech's denseness.

"That femme lied. She couldn't have fixed that herself, she didn't even know where to get the material." he said, "_But,_ I happen to know a former customer who does. He happens to inhabit this very arena."

"Oh yeah? Who's that?"

"Well Soundwave, of course."

* * *

**A/N: I did it! I finally updated people. I did it in a little over a week. Hopefully you all like it because I had terrible writer's block right in the middle and I was left somewhat unhappy. But I made it long as an anniversary for the 10th chapter. It drains my energy, so I think I'll be sticking to 6-7K people. **

**But guess who I wrote about? Good ol' Orion. So why did I chose now to write about him? Reasons.**

**Swindle reappears. (His personality is a sorta blend between G1 and Animated, for those who care...) That's it, and next update will hopefully be as soon as this one. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I disappeared again, I apologize! I was even more disheartened when I realized that I had missed celebrating a year since I published this story. We shall celebrate it now. Thank you for putting up with my stupid, stupid habits of not updating. This will stop. Now. No more late updates and I dare anyone to challenge me. Happy one year!**

* * *

**Adulation- _high praise_**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

This event was an anticipated one, _that_ was obvious. Fate hadn't been so nice to her these past decacycles, but her luck would change today. In all honesty, Darkstrike didn't know what to envision. She had no clue who she would be fighting and she had no clue if she could actually defeat them. She heard of their designations but knew no information on them. That could only be gained through certain contacts, not that Darkstrike was ready to make such friends.

There was a large quantity of audience; if their loud screeches were anything to go by, then she could be certain that there was a full arena. The circumstance was overwhelming and her lack of knowledge wasn't helping. Overall, she felt completely apprehensive with a touch of hesitation.

Despite the rigorous training she endured, anxiety managed to gnaw at her spark. The word _defeat_, echoed in her processor, someone different whispering it to her continually. She heard multiple voices, ranging from insane owners to pesky spiders. Though surprisingly enough, she didn't hear Soundwave's voice.

Speaking of the mech, she wasn't sure if he'd come to her match. Not that she cared... Of course, he didn't _need_ to, if he chose to come, it was on his own terms. She wasn't going to force him to watch her, he had already done enough. Although... it would be reassuring to see him there...

_No. I need anyone right now. I can do this. Soundwave's not always going to be there, deal with it. _

It sounded a bit harsh muttering these words to herself, but it was a reality she mentally prepping herself for. These were words she repeated to herself in moments where she needed to be tough.

They always said that if you repeated a lie long enough, it would become truth.

She looked down at her sword—actually, Soundwave's sword. The one she was _supposed_ to use, had broken during their spar. She recalled the small moment. Darkstrike had stubbornly tried to mend the pieces together. After a good number of kliks, Soundwave must have grown tired of her useless attempts. The mech had wordlessly threw his own sword to her. If Darkstrike hadn't had the reflexes she had, it could have easily wounded her. Luckily, she had caught it with ease.

Darkstrike would hold on to it tightly. The femme tilted it slightly too see the reflection of herself. Nearly unrecognizable vermilion colored optics stared back at her.

Just moments from her current time, she would face off with the two mechs that could possibly end her career (if one could call it that) as a Gladiator. Moments away would determine her progress or her end. Darkstrike had to accept that the two were a possibility.

Nonetheless, she needed a strong mentality if she chose the victorious path.

If—no, _when_ she won, (possitive thoughts) she would pay off her debt with Swindle, receive energon cubes, see Magnesium, and receive a new crafted sword. She attempted not to think about the consequences of failure. Nothing came without a price, after all. What was that saying... _Roll the dice, you pay the price._

_Three..._

"In this corner we have..."

_Two_

The crowd screamed.

_One_

"Darkstrike!"

Time to shine.

The light reflected onto her armor, and her optics illuminated the way. Bright lights flashed throughout the entire arena. Whistles and wolfish calls went her way. Darkstrike could feel her spark beat violently in her chassis. It was a terrorizing feeling to see so many Cybertronians _watching_ her! The femme had never felt like this before! Airachnid did not lie when she said she knew how to advertise.

It took a few moments for the Gladiator femme to stop herself from freezing up. Her purpose was to entertain, and she would do just that.

She looked at Soundwave's sword. It was a beautiful peace of metal and the fact that Soundwave had entrusted her with it, filled her spark with some kind of strange emotion. Darkstrike took it and raised it in the air high. She stood in a melodramatic pose, and even dared to raise her wings something she didn't usually do.

"I am the femme that challenges these two mechs," she hadn't even fully analyzed her opponents until now. When she did, she couldn't help but hesitate. Her optic-ridges raised in alarm.

Two mechs stood proudly beside one another. A thin lanky one, double wings raised high in pride, and a small bulky one. One an actual authentic seeker and the other a strong grounder.

However, all expectant optics were still on her. This was no time to regret her actions. In an act of courage, Darkstrike decided to point the sword in the mechs' direction. This bold move caused the crowd to echo their own glee of the destruction that would come.

The two mechs looked at one another, exchanging words. Their optics seemed to crawl up and down her body. They laughed together as if they heard the funniest thing. Her face tinted with blue and she reserved a glare for the both of them.

If her glare didn't kill, then she was sure that the sword would succeed in getting the job done.

The announcer beckoned them closer. The mech eyed her warily, probably the cause of the last stunt she had pulled with him.

"You all know the gist of it. Anything is allowed. Shake servos and begin." the speaker told all three Gladiators.

The lanky one stepped up first, extending his arm. Darkstrike gladly took his servo with hers. The seeker couldn't decipher the sly smirk her lips held.

Suddenly, her servo clenched so intensely, one could have heard the screech of metal from miles away. Darkstrike then proceeded to flip him over in a single motion.

She grinned, finally understanding the humor of the situation.

"Let's begin."

* * *

Airachnid settled next to Lanyard, brushing off the seat before gracefully sitting. Her long legs crossed, and her head was held up high in pride as usual. Pink optics brightened when they caught sight of this fight's 'challenger.'

"Fancy seeing you here." Lanyard nonchalantly smirked. She gave a slight chuckle.

"I wanted to see how much my work paid off." the spider femme replied.

"And can I say what a _wonderful_ job you did? Not that you ever disappoint, but a pretty little thing deserves compliments often, right?" he asked, optics slowly drifting down to her lips. If Airachnid had noticed, she either chose to ignore it or thought it to be amusing.

"You flatter me, Lanyard,"

"That was the idea, Sweetspark." his optic closed in an effort to wink at her. The owner made a move to bring the spider femme closer to himself, but he was quickly interrupted. Rather obnoxiously, a nearby mech made sure he was noticed by all around him. Egotistical purple optics made contact with the owner's irked green. Though that wasn't the first thing he noticed.

"Well if it isn't my old friend, The Femme Airachnid. Haven't seen you in..." Swindle licked his lips, "A _very_ long time." She hummed in amusement.

"Missed me, have you?" she flashed her fangs. The arms-dealer quickly took an empty seat next the spiderbot. His arms measly wrapped around her shoulders, uncaring whether she approved the gesture or not.

"Don't you know it Sweetspark."

The owner was aware of Swindle, and he wasn't fond of it. Both powerful mechs sat on either side of Airachnid, both glaring at each other. She was aware of this, but decided to act casual for the fun of it.

"You mechs anticipating the outcome of this fight? I'm sure others are." the spider pointed at the crowd.

"Yeah, I'm not too worried though. My femme's is a sufficient little thing. Darkstrike hasn't let me down... recently." Swindle remarked. His optics flickered away, as if to reminisce about her.

"Darkstrike?" Airachnid instantly frowned.

"_Your_ femme?" Lanyard finally decided to speak up, "_I'm_ the one that owns her." He arose his posture to demonstrate his pride as an owner.

"Well you're not the only one who's gotten to know her."

By this point, Airachnid was far from amused at their change in subject. The femme was accustomed to being all of their attention, and she wasn't liking this change. This was not what she was aiming for when she changed the topic.

"We'll just have to wait and see what happens then."

"And I'm confident she'll succeed."

"She's already succeeded with me. I've made more currency in a measly cycle unlike... other businesses." Lanyard said in a contemptible tone.

"My business happens in a span of Vorns, not just a cycle." Swindle defended.

She should h

ave known that it was all competition with them. Those mechs loved to size each other up, despite it being about trivial things. But the femmebot didn't appreciate that they spoke of another femme besides her. It grinded her gears and made her sultry smile drop.

It made Airachnid unnaturally quiet.

She was patient. Patience was a virtue they said. Defeat would come, _oh_ she just knew it would all burn for that Gladiator.

* * *

He didn't expect such an audience, but it wasn't much of a surprise either. Every Gladiator had their fair share of audience, the femme included. Darkstrike was truly a sight for sore optics in this case.

Soundwave wasn't going to be absent in the femme's fight. Not after he had diligently trained her for consecutive cycles. Best if she was the champion of this fight or it would reflect bad on him. All those cycles would be wasted time. The mech didn't just mentor _anyone; _Darkstrike should be grateful he had even taken up such a pitiful thing. Soundwave knew he was superior among the Pits and he had granted the femme a ray of these skills. He had done what he could, now it was up to the femme to prove her competence.

These thoughts forced him to replay some of the memories of him and the femme. These last couple of cycles had been eventful to say the least. Soundwave, again, had gotten intimate with the femme, but his reasoning was that it was simply to keep her in line.

Soundwave didn't appreciate too much ego; the femme already beamed at whatever partial praise he gave her. Though Darkstrike was exceptional, he did his best to remind her who the superior one was. It gave the message that he should still be feared, but it encouraged the femme to try harder and progress further.

The mech disliked all type of physical contact with Cybertronians, but having the power to grab the femme as he pleased, was somewhat... satisfying. Soundwave almost glowered at himself. Many times, he needed to remind himself why exactly he did what he did. _Entertainment_. _Experimentation._ That was all. Sympathy was burned and it lit the path of destruction. He had been the one to light the match, and now he would see if Darkstrike would survive the trail of fire.

* * *

The fight had begun with standard procedure.

Darkstrike realized why she had to endure such rigorous training. There were swords at every side of her blind spot. The scent of failure was a pungent odor Darkstrike refused to intake. It was evident that these bots had anticipated an easy fight. The femme would not give them the satisfaction, she wasn't called a Gladiator for nothing.

Her audios heard the dull sound of the crowd's voice in the background. Femmes and mechs alike roared in sync, rising at each swing of their weapons. There were flashes everywhere, bright lights that would have easily distracted her if she wasn't entirely engulfed in the fight.

She fought the seeker, seeming to give him most of her attention. That was what she wanted him to think. In reality, the grounder that attempted to attack her most vulnerable areas, was the one a large portion of her focus was on. She sensed his brute strength, while the seeker had more of sharp precision. Darkstrike had many scratches to tell the tale. Neither mech she currently fought had sensed her current strategy: keeping both of them in her peripheral vision.

It was aggravating knowing that both were dancing around her while she tried to keep up. It was one mech on one side, then the other taking his place. They bounced around her, taking turns on who would take a hit at her next. Well Darkstrike wasn't making it easy for them that's for damn sure.

At the moment, she hadn't delivered many blows towards her opponents, finding it cumbersome to do so while she defended herself. Though, Darkstrike wasn't getting any closer to winning at this rate. Besides, she needed to give the audience a good show if she wanted to please Lanyard.

Flashes from the seeker mech were her only warning of his advances. The huge frame of the grounder let her know that he was always there, on all sides of her. It was all some sort of game for everyone who watched this. The two mechs bounced around the pretty little femme, trying to confuse her until she fell. At times she didn't know who she was hitting, if she hitting anyone at all.

The thought of failure was growing with every klik and Darkstrike couldn't take it. She_ couldn't _lose!_ Primus-dammit, she wasn't!_ The femme was going to put an end to this game of tag. Her cooling fans were the result of her ever growing movements. She definitely needed all stamina for this, no doubt about it.

The seeker brought down his sword, but Darkstrike reflected it with the armor of her forearm. The femme bent her knees and backhanded the mech at a distance. He fell down, vulnerable, but she didn't have time to defeat him. Just as the grounder was going to pound her into the ground, the femme quickly turned around and bought forth her sword. The crowd went screamed in delight.

The two weapons rammed into each other vigorously causing sparks to ignite. Darkstrike knew she wouldn't have much time before the other mech would stand up to take her on once more. She had to finish this one once and for all.

The Gladiator femme began quickening her pace, a much more advantageous strategy than his brutish force. She would attack before he could even notice. She struck clean and fast. Before the mech could even react, there had already been a wound, and Darkstrike was going for more.

"Arg!" she roared striking down numerous times. The mech couldn't take so much pressure, and eventually began to stumble on his own pedes. She brought up her long leg and aimed it straight toward his chest. He fell on his back, and before he could get up, the femme dug the sword into his arm, making a clean slice all the way through. Her weapon went straight through his limb and stuck to the ground below her pedes. The grounder was stuck to the grounds, preventing him from getting up. Blue energon began spilling quickly, and Darkstrike didn't want any on her. She flicked the mech's fluids off her servos as she looked up at all the bots watching her.

She had finished off the first mech. Darkstrike's optics brightened into a crimson from her victory. It wasn't until she was leaking energon that she realized that only half the battle was over. The seeker had gotten up, unnoticed and had taken advantage of her distracted state.

Her back and wings now held a rather large gash, it was affect of the mech's lethal weapon. The revealed wires in her wings burned in agony.

Darkstrike caught herself before she hit the ground. The femme turned around as her darkened optics murderously glared at the mech.

She was at a disadvantage. He had a weapon and she didn't.

The reflection of her claws briefly flashed at her. Maybe she wasn't completely bare after all.

That seeker thought he was slick, having the sword and all. _H__a_. When he bought it down at her, Darkstrike's claws reached out and gripped his weapon it before it hit her.

She suddenly realized that she had literally just _caught_ a fragging _sword_. It hurt like pit. In fact, she could already see the blue bleeding out.

However, her opponent was dumbfounded at her actions. While he was distracted, her gripped tightened even more. Darkstrike managed to take away his sword and throw it behind them.

"Now it's a fair fight." she said as her fist crashed perfectly into his faceplates.

Needless to say, that seeker wasn't happy about that. He seemed to be doubling his efforts to gain leverage over her.

One could say that things were becoming messy all too fast. _Oh_, he was furious. It was time to change tactics, to take a strategy that seeker would never expect.

So she took advantage of the one thing that made so different than the other Gladiators. She wasn't going to like it, not that she wasn't too experienced with it... It would also classify as downright _humiliating_... but whatever it took to win... right? She didn't think there was any way to resort to a lower level, yet there she was.

It wasn't easy automatically changing strategy. Darkstrike attempted to throw him bait with smirks and flirtatious winks. At first, this seemed to be befuddling him, and the femme took it a step forward by gently, and as subtly as possible, rubbing her wings with his.

He hadn't responded the first few times, but then he realized she was doing it intentionally. She knew he had felt it because he had let out a loud purr. It was common knowledge that contact with a seeker's wings was either threatening... or erotic...

The crowd sensed the change in atmosphere among competitors.

By now, the seeker held a smirk and a dark glint in his eyes. Darkstrike could only play along in the rouse.

"What are you playing at, femme?" he asked with a coy grin.

"Why the violence?" she questioned in the middle of their chaos. It seemed like an innocent question.

"Because I plan on _winning_." was his reply. He took a nasty hit to her side.

"I'm not saying that shouldn't happen. But shouldn't we make this... worth while?" the pain was too excruciating to hide. Darkstrike hissed and had to take a deep vent.

"Are you suggesting you drop this charade," the seeker asked, "And... we both have a good time?"

The femme felt her face heat up. They were evenly matched at a dead end and she wasn't sure how to proceed. Darkstrike had never really tried seducing a mech and she was sure she was doing it wrong.

_Slag, he's going to see right though me!_

"What do you think then?" she asked smoothly. At least she thought she was... He probably thought otherwise.

"Let me get back to you on that."

His response came only nano-kliks later.

"If you forfeit," he chuckled lowly, "I give the a night full of passion,"

Darkstrike was sure she was blushing now. That time he had gotten a little too close to her audio, yet he had left no mark.

It took her a while to realize that her opponent was being serious. Given the current circumstance, it didn't take her long to respond. Darkstrike needed him to think that she was seducing him, either because he was handsome, or because she was cowardly for trying to prevent more injuries. There were high chances he would accept, given that femmes in Kaon didn't exactly have a reputation for being brave. To him, she was just someone saving her own armor or someone captivated by seekers.

"I agree then." she said. The mech seemed pleasantly surprised by her decision.

"Then when I signal you, you will kneel in front of the whole crowd... and _submit_ to _me_." he commanded.

"Just say the words." she remarked. The mech suddenly shoved her forward, a distance from him.

"_Do it now_!" he yelled. She froze, and so did he. All prying optics were on her. At that moment, Darkstrike knew _he_ was watching. Darkstrike knew Soundwave was watching. Her next moves would determine everything.

Darkstrike kneeled down, subconsciously taking steps forward. The femme lowered herself on her kneeplates, and bowed her helm.

Silence.

"I submit."

The crowd broke down in excitement.

"She forfeits! This proud femme is now on her knees... **for me**!" the tall seeker gloated his prize to everyone watching.

Enraptured in her own bubble of concentration, Darkstrike exhaled. This arrogant seeker was going to speak again, and in that moment, he had taken his optics away from her.

She launched, long legs propelling her in his direction. The femme tackled him to the ground, her claws igniting with seething heat. They slipped right into his abdomen. Darkstrike could have yanked a few of his wires out, but that wasn't something she wanted. The femme had already given him the necessary inflicted wound.

Once she was satisfied, the femme stood up, kneading a pede on his wound and pressing on it in case he wanted to stand. The seeker groaned. She pushed him to his side. One of his wings twitched as she took a hold of it. He hissed as she squeezed it tightly.

"These proud mechs have fallen!" her vocal transmitters were loud so that everyone could hear, "And _everyone_ else will _follow_!"

Her claws dug into his wing.

* * *

Confidence had slowly faded away into disbelief. Whispers and murmurs spread throughout the crowd. It was at that moment of silence that signified all attention.

Airachnid's pink optics flickered towards the owners. One nonchalantly lounged back, optics affront and still. The other, Explo, she believed his name was, had his legs and arms crossed, optic-ridge arched in interest. Lanyard looked as if he was going to fall right out of his seat in all the crazed excitement. She looked at Swindle. Even he seemed to be awed by that Gladiator's prowess.

Airachnid wasn't picky herself; she enjoyed a good disembowel of a mech. However, in this case she wanted the femme to be on that end. Things had not gone out as anticipated, another mistake on her part. Yes, the spiderbot was discontented, absolutely vexed at the outcome. When she wanted someone to disappear, they disappeared. That seeker she hired was supposed to finish the job.

This revealed that easily brushing off the Gladiator-femme, wasn't an option anymore.

The spiderbot's exterior posture hadn't changed, her calm and sultry behavior dominating her internal ire. Maybe not now, but a certain someone would fall.

For once, since the fight had started, Airachnid smirked.

* * *

"Do it now!" the Darkstrike's opponent yelled. Soundwave had seen how Darkstrike's movements changed as she interacted more with the seeker. Soundwave's optics analyzed her, drinking up her motions. Something had changed. Their deadly moves had lessened and harmless contact increased. He didn't approve of her smile. The area was for death and energon, most definitely not absurd gestures. When their wings had touched, it immediately caused suspicion within him. She only made physical contact with _him_; not a mech aiming to offline her.

Then Darkstrike dropped to her knees. Colder than usual, Soundwave watched the femme. He told her not to be stupid. If she did not listen, her own reprimand would be _defeat_. Though, he would not underestimate her. He knew her too well for that.

"I submit." the words emitted from her vocals so smoothly Soundwave would have believed it.

"Interesting turn of events." Megatronus smirked. He sat back, arms folded as he arched an optics-ridge in surprise. "She is full of surprises, Soundwave."

It was almost as if he was congratulating him. Soundwave didn't respond besides a curt nod. The giant group of mechs and femmes in the stands, did not stay silent during this period of time.

"She forfeits! This proud femme is now on her knees... **for me**!" the mech opponent yelled.

The Gladiator watched her intently. Soundwave waited patiently, his posture revealing nothing. No one noticed his subtle movements as his helm leaned a little closer in her direction.

The movement was swift, too precise for a normal optic. Soundwave's optics weren't ordinary. It was crystal clear, the moment she launched and the moment the mech was on the ground. There were wounds. It was silent.

"These proud mechs have fallen! And _everyone_ else will _follow_!"

The same wing that had been gently touched, was now brutally torn.

The silent mech didn't predict this, but he had already anticipated something more from this femme. There was more depth than most could see, he had been there to witness it personally. He didn't gloat or boast his thoughts, but Soundwave was no fool in realizing his superior mentor skills. The mech constructed the femme, piece by piece, but all their difficult work had paid off.

"I like her. She seems interested in similar matters, wouldn't you say, Soundwave?" Megatronus asked calmly, despite the loud roars of the others.

He nodded again.

* * *

The speaker approached the area, throwing her a heated glare when he gripped the microphone. He was _still_ peeved about that other time. Nonetheless, he held a professional attitude towards their current situation.

"There you have it, Bots! Exceeding our expectations since her first fight." he mocked. "Give an applause for the femme not afraid to get her claws dirty!"

Their applause was like a thunder threating to emit a lightning strike in her direction. She tuned down her audio receptors and made for the mech on the ground. Ironically, the sword that had struck at her was the one she would chose to bring to Swindle. Seeing as her presence was no longer required in the arena, she made for the exit.

Her wings lay limp, and the femme forced her posture straight. The urge to limp wasn't as strong as her pride. Passing through the arena doors was like a haven. Darkstrike let out the breathe she was holding. She grimaced at her injuries. Unable to support herself correctly, she leaned on the wall.

Pedesteps were a sign she wasn't alone in the dimly lit corridors. Darkstrike looked up, believing the new presence was Soundwave. Just as the words began to leave her vocals, two magenta optics revealed themselves. Darkstrike realized that this was not the company she wanted.

The spiderbot clapped slowly, in a melodramatic manner. The smirk on her faceplates suggested that she was mocking her. Darkstrike's lips curled in a wary snarl. Her claws still stung from her recent attack, but the unstable appendages were still available for usage.

A melodious laugh filled the hallway.

"Well done, well done indeed." Airachnid stopped not too far from her. Darkstrike had nothing to say to this dangerous Cybertronian-er, whatever she was. "That mech certainly had your back, didn't he?"

Her backstrusts began to throb in pain, causing her to wince aloud. A single trail of energon dripped from her dark wings. Airachnid saw the bright blue fluid, her pain only causing the other femme satisfaction. Tension was in the air, hate in pink optics and aggravation in the Gladiator's scowl.

"I am a femme of my word, cheating you out of our deal would just seem unprofessional wouldn't it?" it was a rhetorical question but Darkstrike still felt the urge to remark.

"That's Swindle's forte, isn't it? But you seem so well acquainted with him; you might have picked up a few things..." she replied. The Gladiator noticed the way the comment didn't suit well with the sponsor. There was a forced laugh from the spiderbot.

"Injured and with a sense of humor? The audience won't be able to get enough of you. They'll be tearing your wings off just to get to you." the smaller femme hummed. Darkstrike's wings gave a violent hitch. She was easily riled by the femme, but not completely convinced at the bait. Airachnid was a sponsor and a good friend of the owners. Other Gladiators were expected to treat her with respect or face the consequences.

_I hate you, _Darkstrike wanted to say. The taller femme deadpanned.

"What happened to that sense of humor of yours? What's holding you _back_?"

Her back injury stung even more at the words. Darkstrike didn't even know why she was still there. Neither of them liked each other, why the frag did they still interact?

Because they had a _rivalry_. A competition to see which resourceful femme would come out on top. They were both feared on different levels. They both knew things. They both were _dangerous_. There was a mutual intimidation emanating from both femmes, all of it masked by their pride.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to leave." her words were short and to the point.

"What was it I wanted to tell you...?" she murmured to herself. Her heel tapped on the floors for a few nano-kliks. "Oh yes, your sword will be delivered in an orn's time."

_You little—_

"You should really get that repaired. It isn't good to walk around with an open wound." as much as Darkstrike wanted to sink her sword into that little slagger's body, she had self-control. "I'll leave you to it."

Heels eagerly clicked down the hallway.

"Until next time, _Airachnid_." she commented under her breathe. After those words had left her, those heels didn't seem to have the same avid skip as before.

* * *

Any Gladiator that walked by, would have suspected that the energon room was empty. It wasn't implausible, no one really went in that room besides when energon was available. At this late joor, there was nothing and nobot in there... Right?

Only the observant mechs weren't fooled. Hidden at the very corner of the room, sat a lone femme.

Said femme sat on the ground, ignoring the logic of sitting in one of the empty seats. The Gladiator slurped the energon in her servo, stray drops dripping from her bottom lip. Darkstrike was careful not to consume it all in one take. If she was celebrating her victory, she would have to savor it. The femme's wounds were still open and energon still coated her armor. Anyone sane in the processor would have paid the medic a visit. Unfortunately, she didn't really qualify as "sane."

She hummed a little tune, as her cube was swayed to the rhythm of it. The old tune was certainly contagious. The liquid swished in its container, but Darkstrike didn't pay any mind to it. She gave herself a crooked smile to lighten her mood.

Her optics closed, even as someone entered the room. Darkstrike continued, even as the pedesteps got closer. Those loud steps belonged to a mech, and not just any ordinary mech at that. The bot reached her and simply stared down. The cold presence gave her a familiar chill that awoke her from her state.

The internal temperature in her frame seemingly dropped a few degrees. Darkstrike stopped humming. Her optics saw the shadow that loomed over her, casting a light shadow over her faceplates. Her red optics slowly elevated, from the mech's pedes, to his promising, gorgeous tall structure. The femme gulped.

So someone had noticed her, after all.

Darkstrike felt like he was judging her with his silent stare. If he was more talkative, the flier felt like he would have wearily sighed at her. Soundwave slightly leaned down and yanked her arm up. Her weight was easy to handle and she was up on her pedes in a flash.

Soundwave's visor reflected her deep wounds. His grip on her arm tightened, a sign that he was reprimanding her for not getting those fixed.

He watched as Darkstrike squirmed unhappily as he began walking out the door. He knew that the femme was so used to this, she wasn't even questioning it anymore. If he actually cared, Soundwave would question how the femme was intelligent enough to win a difficult battle, but stupid enough to sit with open wounds.

_He _didn't care, but the _femme_ should have cared. It annoyed him to an extent, but _there_ he was. It was inevitable. She was hopeless.

Soundwave didn't wait for her to catch up, and this caused her to stumble on her pedes.

They were inside his room in an instant. The mech didn't bother secretively typing his passcode; Darkstrike knew it as well as he did. The lights immediately turned on. He wasn't gentle, the femme would have fallen forward if it wasn't for his berth.

"Remove your armor." he stated.

She hesitantly looked up at him, but he had gone into his workspace to find any healing remedies. Darkstrike still seemed shy when revealing her frame to him, but Soundwave hardly cared; it wasn't as if he hadn't seen her bare before.

Once he found a few things, he turned his attention back to the femme. She had stripped of most of her upper armor and Soundwave analyzed her. He was intrigued by her unique built and not for the first time, he searched for what could be potential weaknesses. His optics roamed her frame from behind his visor. As before, he was pleased from what he saw.

Darkstrike had noticed his audacious gazing and this didn't surprise Soundwave; he wasn't subtle with his actions. He knew it made her uncomfortable which was why he purposely made it more blatant.

He motioned her to turn and she easily complied. Darkstrike's back was a creamy color protoform with the ugly blemish of the gash as evidence of her fight. He began aiding her carefully. Her wings seemed to twitch in pain when he touched the damaged area. Soundwave watched the downward wings, recognizing that they had come in contact with some _seeker's_ _wings_. The idea didn't sit well with him.

The mech had to reattach some wires and stop the bleeding. After Soundwave had done all he could, he looked at the wing damage.

Soundwave seemed reluctant to leaving it like that; her wings didn't seem to be in pain when they were rubbing against that other mech's. His servo spread out wide and he stroked her left wing. If she was a seeker, she would have jolted, nonetheless, he felt her small reaction. He assumed that she knew his servo was there. His long fingers pressed harder and stroked them roughly, leaving four symmetrical small scratches there.

It was a primitive thing to do, marking her, but Soundwave wanted her to know who was her actual superior, _not_ that stupid seeker.

Her back arched up and her claws dug into his berth. He couldn't see her face, but her posture said it all. After that, Darkstrike's wing was quickly repaired, minus his mark. She had flinched and winced a few times and this was expected. Victory came with a cost.

The femme made a move to stand up, but his servo snaked away to her abdomen. He was cautious enough to avoid her wound. Darkstrike stiffened up, a light blush coating her light faceplates. Soundwave pressed on it, motioning her to lay down. She squirmed beneath his servo, much to Soundwave's pleasure.

"Recharge." he commanded. Many things burst through her mind, her loud thoughts unintentionally reaching him. Questions such as "why are you doing this?" where frequently asked.

"Suggestion: Darkstrike depart in current state?" he asked.

_I shouldn't be so surprised, _came from her mind. He didn't say anymore. Soundwave expected her to recharge and allow the graceful silence to engulf them, but he knew better. That processor of hers never stopped ticking, it always went on and on, even in her recharge.

"I won." she said. She was attempting conversation with him again. Soundwave didn't find himself talking much, but he was interested in what she had to say.

He nodded.

"Those two mech live though. I could have killed them..." she said, "There weren't any rules that said I couldn't."

Soundwave turned to her. "Mechs still live."

"Correct..."

"Query: Why?"

She glanced at him with wide optics.

"Why...?" she repeated. He didn't anything, rather just stared in her direction.

She took a moment to think, pressured by his sudden question. The dark-armored femme knew he was going to ask her this.

"I wanted them to survive so that they could live with the humiliation of the femme that defeated them both."

Soundwave was inwardly pleased with her response. This was no longer the high-caste that had entered this arena. Darkstrike had proved her worth, and had _survived_. She had made it farther and exceeded his expectations. Because of this, he had healed her. She deserved some type of reward.

He turned his back from the femme and grasped the ends of his helm. There were multiple clicks and his visor was off. Soundwave could feel the femme's optics on his back. Darkstrike was _very_ interested in his aesthetic for some reason. She waited for him to turn around. Those red optics of hers were just begging to see him _once_.

"Your query?" he asked. He purposely didn't turn.

"Uhm... no... I-I," she coughed in embarrassment, "_Thank you_."

She shuffled and turned to lean off her wound. This once, Soundwave allowed a smirk to grace his lips.

* * *

**A/N: Soundwave doesn't like that mech all over his girl it seems. I hope you enjoyed that fight, I really put a lot of effort into it. **

**Also, with Airachnid, I somewhat like her character _(but I hate who she kills)_ so you all get to see her being a smartass and such.**

**Welcome me back and kindly tell me what you all think. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Provenance- _the beginning of something's existence; something's origin._**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Her vents inhaled deeply, a sign that she was beginning to online. Vermillion bright orbs lit up. Dull walls were the first thing that greeted her that cycle. This didn't alarm her anymore, not when she had woken up in Soundwave's room on many other occasions. Although, neither times were the most comforting. Darkstrike had to remind herself that this was _his_ room. It would be best if she didn't get too comfortable around him. Primus knows that he would suspect of it, he had before.

The femme made a move to stand, but she registered the pain too quickly. Her joints and backstruts ached and she felt discomfort throughout her whole body. Everyone of her wounds throbbed, this included parts that weren't leaking energon. Her optics drifted to her bare protoform. Darkstrike hadn't even put her armor back on because of how uncomfortable it would have be. She did feel Soundwave's gaze on her last night, but since he didn't say anything, she didn't either.

Speaking of the mech, Darkstrike hadn't sensed him yet. While he made no noise, it wasn't hard to feel when he was staring. She could feel or hear none of it. The femme struggled when turning on the berth; she uttered a few noises of pain. It took a while for her optics to find the mech, though this could be because she was looking in the wrong places.

Darkstrike almost toppled off when she saw Soundwave on the other side of the berth... the same berth she was on. The flier really shouldn't have been so surprised; this was _his_ berth. Her optics brightened in wariness and internal energon froze, as did her posture. She leaned forward to study him.

Soundwave was on his back, as still as a statue. He didn't move or respond. The mech had his visor on, much to her dismay. If his chest hadn't been rising, Darkstrike would have mistaken him for offline. She realized that he was simply recharging. The thought was almost unheard of. It was strange thinking that Soundwave could recharge just like any other Cybertronian. Seeing him so vulnerable like this was peculiar. This was a reminder that even those with incomparable strength had to turn off the lights from then and there. Darkstrike leaned forward slightly, careful not to wake him.

Surely he wouldn't trust her enough to let his guard down and fall into the bliss of recharge. That was equivalent to turning your back on an opponent. Then again, Soundwave was never really vulnerable. Darkstrike had little-to-no armor on, no large weapons with her, and she was already damaged as it is. Soundwave on the other servo, was a ready Gladiator, prepared to attack at any klik with superior strength. She was sure that any slight movement that she made would cause him to online in alarm. Darkstrike would be a fool to try anything, especially to abuse the thin line of trust between them.

Her servo slowly inched forward. It brushed against one of his long arms. She noticed that they were thin and it was mostly composed of armor. Darkstrike watched his visor and wondered about the closed optics he hid behind it._ If he has any_.

Of course he did! It was only a faint memory, but she had seen them before. His optics were red like hers, only a different shade. Darkstrike internally scoffed; she was acting as if she knew his face by detail. Perhaps not, but she probably knew more than others, and this satisfied her.

Soundwave had been the first mech she had met. A few vorns ago, she would had laughed if someone told her that in the future she would be in a berth with a Gladiator. Yet here she was, sharing it with this warrior. It chilled her to the core that she was doing this. The femme knew she shouldn't have been touching him like this, but Darkstrike couldn't help it. She needed contact from him. He was usually the one who initiated contacted, but that was on his own terms. She wanted to know what it felt like.

Her servo felt the warm metal, aching to feel more. Her optics flickered to his visor in alarm. Darkstrike was charting on dangerous territories. If he suddenly onlined, the femme would have some serious implications to deal with. Despite it not being threatening, Soundwave would surely not approve.

Not that Darkstrike really cared about it now. Her optics greedily took in his magnificence. He had a tighter waist with violet biolights spreading all under his armor. His armor was sharp, most of it was still on, she noticed. Long fingers lay completely still and her spark ached to lace them with hers. It wasn't just because of his appearance, it was also because of the other aspects about him. The fact that Soundwave had sacrificed his time, for whatever reason to aid her, _her_... Darkstrike couldn't care less for what reasons he had done it.

She knew he didn't care as much as she wanted him to. The femme was well aware that Soundwave was no god of righteousness, and she accepted that. He was not a good mech, he had most likely slaughtered many and would do it again if necessary.

He was dangerous. He was vicious. He was intelligent.

This was all of what she knew as _him_, as Soundwave. He could almost be called evil, and for some reason her spark craved for the darkness. He was ruthless and dangerous in his own silent way. Knowing that this bot could offline her caused her an indescribable wanton. It was unnatural... if it was, then why was her wasn't she disturbed?

_I'm absolutely infatuated with him, aren't I?_

Darkstrike quickly retracted her servo and looked away. She knew she was blushing, but she preferred not to admit it.

Settling on the fact that neither of them were going to try anything, Darkstrike laid back down. She checked the time and saw that it was still far too early to be wandering the corridors. A few more joors wouldn't hurt her, especially with her state. The femme disregarded the fact that she was sharing the same berth as _him _aka second-ranking. The flier turned her back to him and curled herself into recharge again.

* * *

It had been too long since Soundwave had proper recharge. It was weighing down on him, he knew, but he ignored it. The mech knew it was logical to offline for a few joors, and he intended on doing so. However, he had let the femme onto his berth the same cycle he was planning on recharging.

Indecisiveness stopped him before he was able to settle down. Initially, he hadn't wanted to share his berth; it was the berth to himself or nothing at all. Though, he knew that this stubborn attitude would lead him no where.

So he began to think from another perspective.

It was _his_ berth, after all. It should have been the femme contemplating whether she should be there or not. He was entitled to recharge if he wanted to. If the femme had an issue with it, she could leave, though he doubted she would. It wasn't as if he was going try anything with her. Soundwave had more dignity in himself than to drop to pathetic lust. If he wanted a whore, he would pay for one. Darkstrike was a Gladiator, not a pleasurebot. He didn't need this femme to service him, despite how desirable she was... _to others_.

As for what she could do while he recharged: if she tried anything at all, he would terminate the threat, though he suspected she wouldn't be foolish enough to attempt anything.

The other Cybertronian had curled herself into the far left of the berth. She hadn't moved since, most likely because of her injuries.

Soundwave had then offlined as well. The weariness of the cycles weighed on his frame, and he allowed himself to close his optics from behind his visor.

When he onlined, it was abruptly, as if something had disturbed him within. His spark was pulsing more than usual and his armor felt strange. His arm had felt inexplicably different. Something had been altered, as if there had been nonconsensual contact. This was not expected, he should have onlined if he had felt anything undesirable; it was instinct. He elevated his helm and turned towards the femme.

Darkstrike was curled to herself, but he noticed that she had shifted positions. Nonetheless, the femme was still _innocently_ recharging. Affiliating this femme with anything innocent was probably absurd. The fresh gashes laced on her armor gave a good example why.

Realizing that he would never confirm his suspicions, Soundwave sat up. He leaned against the wall while still sitting on the berth. It gave him a clearer view of her.

She released a few vents within every klik. His optics freely roamed her without shame. Soundwave saw the crevices and smooth light protoform. Each complicated wire and joint connected together to create this Cybertronian: Darkstrike.

He reached out to touch her injuries. Soundwave was no medic, and certainly didn't have any experience with others. He didn't get injured often, but when he did, it was nothing he couldn't handle. Even his fight with Megatronus hadn't required any medical attention from a medic.

Even so, he didn't confide in the old medic to heal Darkstrike. He charged for his services; the femme had enough debt to deal with.

Long fingers touched the edges of the wounds. He felt her body hitch in her recharge. Soundwave noticed that wires had yet to properly reestablish on their own. She needed to rid herself of the energon filth, but other than that it seemed whatever he had done had sufficed.

He didn't stop there. His servos felt her wings, feeling the duller metal of them. Soundwave stroked them to the base of her back, to where her wound was. The mech didn't know what he was doing, but it seemed appropriate for the moment. He went to her light faceplates and slightly lifted her chin towards his direction. His optics scanned her face. Despite having scratches and filth, her features still appeared to be originating from a place different than Kaon. Those native of the city like him, had a gruff appearance and a thick accent. Judging by her previously green optics and vocal transmitters, he inferred that she was from Iacon or Altihex, a city bordering Iacon.

His servo continued and he was unconcerned of what would happen if the femme onlined.

Soundwave had never engaged in this much physical contact with anybody if it wasn't aimed to harm them. Not even those pleasure-bots received such a treatment. The femme was smart enough to realize that this treatment didn't make her anybody special.

As of late he hadn't indulged in her thoughts, but that was for the better. He didn't need to be thinking about her constantly, he already knew the amount he was doing now was unnatural. It was enough to disturb him and draw his processor into a fritz. Of course he didn't approve of it, he knew deep inside that this was becoming more than a simple source of entertainment.

With all the time he had invested, this was no ordinary bot he would kill. He used to think he wouldn't hesitate to offline her in a beat, but now he needed to keep assuring himself that this was still the case.

Soundwave had to remain as confident as he always was. A femme wasn't going to disrupt his order. Soundwave needn't overcomplicate a simple situation. Sometimes he didn't know why he did things, but he had self-awareness to realize that he always chose the right decision. He quickly analyzed and formed a logical conclusion. He wouldn't have been a high ranking Gladiator if this wasn't the case.

His "cold gaze" as the femme preferred to call it, returned to her. He silently cursed at her for awakening such thoughts and glitches in his spark. Soundwave refused to accept petty emotions, and more so the ones he sensed from _her_. This was still a game for him, an unmerciful and wreckless game, and right now he had the femme at his pedes.

A quiet noise filled the silent room. He turned towards the source. Unsurprisingly, Darkstrike was beginning to awaken.

* * *

A few more things had occurred when Darkstrike onlined. Again, she realized that there was no arguing with a Kaonian such as Soundwave. Whatever he said, she listened intently. For one, he had more experience than her, and although there was no telling his age, surely he was older than her.

He was careful to chose his words, never revealing too much to her. She took whatever she could: whether constructive criticism or simply insults. Darkstrike knew that at the end of it, there would always be something he liked of what she did. The femme wasn't ashamed to say that she relished in it. Nobody else respectively gave her recognition, why shouldn't she take it as a compliment?

So then the aggravating mech told her to go to the oil baths. She tried not to take it as an offense, but even she admitted that she was unpresentable. The mech fluids and gashes all over made her grimace.

After that, Darkstrike departed from his room, although she would probably return again. They still hadn't finished "Project Laserbeak." Thought for the moment, she would settle on composing her appearance. Of course, as she exited the forbidden corridors, the femme seemed to forget why exactly they were forbidden. She wasn't exactly allowed, and despite being warned, there she was.

Because of this, Darkstrike hadn't realized that she wasn't the only Gladiator near those parts of the Pits.

With ease, she made her way towards the bathing areas, unaware of optics that had trailed behind her. Scarlet optics narrowed suspiciously at the femme who had left certain quarters. The middle-ranking mech crossed his arms and turned to the hallways. His optics narrowed into a glare that fixated itself onto the door that Darkstrike came out of. Suspicions immediately formulated in his processor and accusations of certain scandalous events began to bounce in his wandering mind.

RocketShield began making the connections between past encounters and the present ones. Soundwave had made more than one bet with him, many of them revolving around the femme, all which RocketShield had lost. The fact that Soundwave and that Brightplate were surely fragging caused him a great deal of indignity. He was sure aware of it now, and he couldn't help the jealousy biting at him.

* * *

There was the noisy clatter of a sword and total silence followed. Long claws were seen pushing it forward on the counter, along with a solid blue slip. Amused purple optics ascended to the femme. Swindle saw the pride in her actions, a beaming femme as she handed back her debt.

"Surprise, surprise," Swindle chuckled, "You don't disappoint."

"Correct. I have no debt with you anymore." she replied crossing her arms. Swindle was quick to collect his items.

"I hope this isn't the last I see of my dear sweetspark. You were such a valuable customer." he spoke. He winked at her causing the femme to frown.

_What a bunch of slag._

"I'm sure that's what you tell them all." she replied crossing her arms.

"Don't be so cold now. It's just business, nothing personal. In fact, I've enjoyed your short time here."

"Yes well, I'm not exactly in the financial state to be here or make any more deals with business-mechs... such as yourself." she deadpanned. Darkstrike's back leaned on the counter, watching as the other mech smirked.

"Fancy words you're using there," he said. It was almost as if he was ignoring what she had said. The femme gave him a strange look. His charming purple optics rove her, but in a less suggestive way than she was accustomed to. She said nothing, preferring to let him begin the conversation again.

"Where are you from, Darkstrike?" he inquired. The question caught her off guard.

"W-what..?" the femme almost slipped. She fixated her optics onto him. Furrowing an optic ridge, she leaned forward.

"You're not native of Kaon are you?" the armsdealer questioned. Darkstrike stiffened and flickered her optics towards another direction.

"Yes I am." she interjected. Swindle's optics closed as he let out an amused laugh. It was a rich chuckle, becoming bitter as she listened to it longer. Darkstrike huffed and crossed her arms. Vermillion optics glared at the business-mech. "I don't see what's so funny."

"I'm as honest as the customer is. I could tell you that I'm the emperor of Cybertron, but we both know I'd be lying." Swindle casually leaned on the counter.

"Fine. I'm not from Kaon. But I don't see what's so important about it." she stubbornly turned away. Again, he ignored her discomfort.

"Where ya from? I'm thinking Crystal City— no, Iacon." he suggested. Darkstrike was about to give him false information, but he abruptly cut her off. "Hang on,"

She opened her mouth to speak.

"No, can't be that." Swindle murmured.

"I—" she was cut off.

"Wait a klik..."

Darkstrike didn't know if she should bother speaking again.

"Ahh, so you're an Altihex gal." he finalized. Her mouth was left hanging in astonishment. Swindle must have noticed her incredulity for he laughed again.

"_Who_... _what_?! I don't recall saying anything." she accused.

"You didn't have to. Based on your fancy little way of speaking and the fact that you're a flier, it make it pretty obvious. Although, I wasn't sure because of your optics."

She immediately averted them away.

"Let's see, my knowledge is a bit rusty, it feels like I haven't been there in _eons_," he began, "Altihex. Most of the peace makers are there. It's a wealthy caste I've seen it. From what I know, they don't particularly like violence."

"..." Darkstrike mentally cursed herself for reacting to dumbly. She couldn't help that this was a sensitive subject for her. Sometimes she bordered plain stupid and truly cunning. This was not one of her best moments. The flier really didn't appreciate someone outsmarting her, especially if it wasn't Soundwave. Swindle was formidable at these mind games, but she wouldn't let herself slip so easily.

"So tell me how you ended up at a Gladiator..."

She leaned in closer to him. Her optic-lids lowered and a smirk blossomed on her faceplates. "You really want to know?"

"Hm, I'm willing to listen." he also leaned forward to meet her half way. They were at a few distance apart. She reached out and gently stroked his polished faceplates. She saw the large grin forming on him.

"You want to listen," she paused to look at his lips, "To a femme like me?"

"Only if you're willing to share."

"Well then," she began, "It all started about the time you became emperor of Cybertron."

And like that, his amused expressed vanished all together. He deadpanned and his optics didn't look so friendly anymore. Her claws pressed a bit too hard on his faceplates, screeching as they left a similar mark like he had done to her. Swindle immediately backed away, a servo ghosting over his new mark. A light coat of energon dripped from his face.

She swore that she heard him say "_So you want to play it like that,_"

Darkstrike let out a crisp laugh, something she had not done in so long. Swindle on the other servo, did not look elated at all. The femme was beginning to suspect he would try something else, but all he did was smile in response. She didn't trust it at all, causing her to stop her chortling.

"Caught me off guard there, sweetspark. Not to worry, it won't happen again._ I promise_." his cynical tone of voice slightly alarmed her.

"Of course."

"You know, you're more quick-witted than I first thought." Swindle said.

"Couldn't have made it this far without a processor." Darkstrike remarked.

"And you've made it pretty far, haven't you?"

"Yes..." she was becoming skeptical.

"Now that we're on the subject, why don't we talk about your fight."

"Did you find it entertaining?" it was a simple question.

One he didn't answer right away. "I noticed something peculiar about the way you fight." he replied. Darkstrike unfolded her arms, daring to become indignant. Her optics widened in unpleasant surprise.

"What's wrong with my fighting strategy?" she asked. Now Swindle was interested. Purple optics watched in fascination as she bluntly expressed her emotions.

"They don't teach their little femmebots how to fight on Altihex."

She repeated her question again, just as every bit of disgruntled.

"Nothing wrong... just familiar." he hummed.

"Everyone has their way of fighting." she opted.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've been training with someone haven't you?" everything he mentioned seemed to have a point to it. Darkstrike waited for him to elaborate.

"It's not uncommon to spar with other mechs." she said.

"Funny you should mention that."

She didn't like when someone talked about humor. It was as if the whole planet knew some humorous secret of life and no one had bothered to tell her. Or perhaps it was because she was the punch line, the bad joke everyone laughed at.

"Soundwave must be a worthy sparring partner, am I right?" Darkstrike froze with an icy glare at his frosted words, "Unless you're going to claim you don't know him."

Darkstrike tensed up again, despite her efforts to remain indifferent. She held her ground, attempting to look as confident as when she had entered his shop.

"That's none of your concern, _thank you very much_,"

He arched an optic ridge in interest.

"As for your other question: everybody knows him, he currently holds first ranking of the Pits." the femme cleverly responded. Swindle stood up straight.

"_Ah_, that's where you're _wrong_. Everyone knows Megatronus holds that ranking, _not_ Soundwave." he waggled a finger at Darkstrike as if reprieving her.

"That's debatable." the femme huffed.

"Is that so?"

"That is so."

"What makes you so sure?" his purple optics curiously watched her.

"One battle can't determine everything." was her statement. Darkstrike was satisfied with her simple yet clever choice of words.

"It seemed like a fair fight, last one standing wins. Soundwave seemed to be the one who fell in this case." Swindle was baiting her, waiting for the moment she would reveal information.

"Gladiator fights are hardly ever fair," she rebutted, "Sure yes, Megatronus may be all high and mighty, but Soundwave is equally just as deadly." Swindle trailed his optics away from her, something distant. Darkstrike hardly paid it any mind. She was set on proving her point. And she was absolutely right! The femme would never argue for something unless she knew she had a point.

"Yes? And how would you know that?" Swindle asked.

Darkstrike lightly growled. Her faceplates flooded with blue in irritation.

Swindle had no right to talk about Soundwave in that way He was one of the best fighters, able to kill in a klik! His intricate mindset allowed him to intelligently take down virtually any opponent! He didn't need for any words or communication to show everyone his superior strength. Everyone respected him, everyone _feared_ him. There weren't many warriors with such as a capability as him, how did Swindle not realizing this? More importantly, why was he against him?

"You haven't witnessed any of his fights? It seems like he knows what he's doing. It also seems you don't agree with me, but anyone with functioning optics could see his capability, I've seen it personal—... I—I.." she quickly cut herself off. Her words hung in midair. They lingered in the growing silence and smug expressions. The blush staining her face was now from embarrassment instead of irritation. Her hands curled in hesitation. Dim optics looked away as she cleared the lump from her throat. Swindle watched her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm sorry, I think I might have missed that," he spoke. She coughed it away, momentarily looking down.

"_Again_, no concern of yours." she fumbled. Swindle nonchalantly shrugged.

"The point is," he directly pointed at her. Her optics followed his short digit. "You think Soundwave is better than Megatronus?"

"I—..."

"It's a yes or no answer, Sweetspark."

Decisively making up her mind, she decided on a response.

"Yes."

A deadly silence hung in the air, and all she could see was Swindle's grin.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

The energon in her systems ran cold. Her optics must have widened as far as they could go. She stiffened to the point of extremely uncomfortable. Not daring to even breathe, her helm slowly moved to the left.

A very large mech came into her view. Signature silver armor and blue optics all there. Sharp armor shone in the lights, brightening as he came closer.

"_Of course not_, Megatronus. Just chatting with one of my favorite femme customers." Swindle smugly replied. She glanced at the arms-dealer with complete ire. The Gladiator femme held back the urge to strike at him, if she had a sword on her, she feared that she might of had no restraint.

She hadn't noticed that Megatronus had approached her rather than Swindle. Then, her optics locked with the Gladiator's. He held a dark glint in his blue optics, as well as a wicked smile matching his appearance. Sharp denta flashed her way. She had only encountered him once, and that time wasn't any less intimidating. She at least recognized that Soundwave had no desire to kill her despite knowing that he could, but Megatronus was a different path, too risky to even consider taking.

"Yes, Darkstrike is it?"

"Uh... affirmative...?" she decided to use formal language when speaking to him. Hopefully it would show her respect, despite just dissing him just a few kliks ago.

"I wanted commend you for your battle, you were _very_ impressive." it was a mock praise. She felt as if he was complimenting her and taunting her at the same time. It gave contempt a new meaning. Her blush increased and her whole face might have been completely blue at that point.

"I appreciate those with strong opinions and those willing to express them." he continued. She didn't know whether he was being sincere or not. _Oh Primus_, these mechs were professionals at farces.

"..." there was no way they couldn't see her embarrassment at this point.

"I agree with you. Soundwave is a formidable opponent." he lowered himself to her audio receptors. His keen claws briefly held her chin. "You tell him that I said that."

She gulped and gave a shaky nod. Fumbling to compose herself, in that instant, the femme had never been so eager to leave a location.

* * *

The femme burned so brightly with embarrassment, she felt drops coolant near her optics begin to leak. It was something to help cool her exterior.

She felt like she had been played the whole time. This felt even worse than what she went through with _him_. Maybe it wasn't that bad, but then again she wanted to throttle something, so that probably wasn't a comforting sign.

She wasn't actually affected by their words. It was the seething mortification she felt on the exterior. The flier should have known this would happen, mangling with Gladiators wasn't something any femme did. She coped extremely well in her opinion. But sometimes even that wasn't enough. She sometimes felt as if they towered over her, laughing over at the little thing that was scared of their shadows. The fact that this was life terrified her. Darkstrike had managed this far, but there was always a breaking point. There was always some sort of limitation. The reminder of her previous caste caused her current turmoil. It was no longer sipping high grade in luxurious quarters. It was enduring hard times with limited resources and harsh attitudes.

She was prepared to step up to these Gladiators, but the emotion in her spark needed release. She had struggled to keep it pent up for as long as she could, but the coolant began leaking from her optics.

Her past began flashing through her processor and how she landed in the fate she was in. It wasn't pretty. Everything in the Pits flashed by in a single klik. All her mistakes, the loneliness, the aching training, and the painful struggle that was battle.

Darkstrike began to feel her wounds ache, but it was a good pain. It was better than feeling the one in her spark.

She closed her optics and darted straight towards the corner.

*_Clank_*

She felt herself collide with a solid structure. The femme fell back from the force, landing on her aft. Her wide optics looked up in a hasty glare. However, her icy look faltered when she saw it was _him_. She was probably there for a nano-klik, but she was so vulnerable, the femme was sure that Soundwave saw right through her.

He didn't offer a servo for her to get up. Darkstrike didn't mind, she stood up on her own accord.

She quickly wiped off the coolant from her faceplates in attempt to hide it.

Soundwave like usual, didn't comment.

Her blush hadn't left, and her optics wouldn't quite meet his visor.

"I..." she couldn't find the right words to say, "Megatronus says that you're a formidable opponent."

It was better just ripping the wound off than to drag it out. Darkstrike said what she needed to and that was it. The dark-armored femme glanced up at him before walking around him. She scurried forward, not daring to look back at Soundwave. As long as he didn't grab her, she would make it.

She would make it.

* * *

Training always made her wounds sting a little more, it exerted her after a rough battle, especially like the one from yesterday. Though letting go of her anger through violence always compensated for it. Not that she had a choice in the matter; the owners always expected you to be training, signing in every time you entered the areas. Some mechs skipped their training, but those mechs were always punished. Darkstrike had thought of it doing it herself, but it was easy to notice when she was gone, especially since she was the only femme there. She also seemed to have made an impression among the owners. They knew her designation and fighting records, of course they'd notice her absence.

She saw Lanyard after her fight and she wouldn't bother searching him up again. They had 'coincidentally' bumped into each other in the hallways. The meeting was brief but she received the free ticket, and he said that she'd get her energon around the same time Magnesium returned. Darkstrike had been in pain at the time and was in no mood to argue. So they had left it at that. It was probably for the best, purposely going into his office again seemed like an unwise choice.

If Darkstrike could describe Lanyard, she would say he was deranged. It seemed he had the same crazed attitude as these other Gladiators. Lanyard wanted action on the spot, something that truly entertained.

He seemed to crave the excitement while the other two owners only really liked the currency she provided. He didn't treat her or any Gladiator, like they were more than an object though. It was better to grow accustomed to it; She wasn't going anywhere. The femme shouldn't think too much about it, it wasn't as if her opinion was going to change anything.

Darkstrike looked down at her pedes. Her arms were tired and her joints felt like they would fall apart. Her optics closed as she released a weary sigh. The femme felt like she was done for the cycle.

The flier turned around, and her reflexes kicked in. Darkstrike jumped back at the mech who stood there. Her optics then narrowed when she recognized his ugly faceplates. It had been a while since she heard from him; she was wondering where he had went. Her life had gotten significantly less annoying with the lack of his presence. Not that it made any difference, Swindle made up for it.

RocketShield leaned on a wall with his arms crossed. The femme didn't really care too much for the mech, therefore ignored him. It had been a while since they've interacted, Darkstrike was wondering when he'd pop up.

In all honesty, RocketShield didn't intimidate her anymore. Most of the mechs didn't intimidate her, mostly because they were now under her. Her rank had increased greatly, and she classified as a middle-ranking Gladiator. That, and after tasting death from various other mechs, including Soundwave, those less powerful, didn't affect her. It was difficult to top Soundwave or even Megatronus.

It was almost refreshing now that she wasn't picked on all the time. The Gladiators saw her more with skeptic than with suggestiveness. Sure the mechs didn't exactly trust each other, but acquaintances were made from then and there. It was obvious when a mech was accepted by the others, but it had been different for her because she was a femme. However, Darkstrike had bigger problems than worrying what others thought of her.

_Then why is it different with Soundwave?_

She angrily brushed the thought away, preferring not to mention _him_ either.

"Brightplate, it's been a while." RocketShield said. She sparred him an uninterested glance before turning away. Most mechs had a large pride and they didn't like to be ignored. RocketShield was no exception.

"They say it's rude to ignore someone who's _sparing_ the time talking to you." his tone had gotten less cheerful. Darkstrike arched an optic-ridge at him.

"Why don't you spare me your sweet talking instead," she replied wearily.

"My, my, femme. Someone's gotten in the habit of disrespecting superiors." he advanced forward.

Darkstrike let out a sharp mocking laugh. "Don't bother wasting your breathe. I rank the same, making me no better or less than you,"

It was his turn to laugh. Then, in that instant he went silent and his demeanor went serious. "You and I," he jabbed his finger at her, "Are not equals."

Her expression melted into a glare. Darkstrike shoved his arm away. "Maybe you're right, maybe _I'm_ better than you." she jabbed him as well.

"Don't touch me," he growled.

"Don't give me orders." she spat.

"I can do what I want!"

Darkstrike scowled at him, "Listen here, whether you like it or not, we're both Gladiators and we're both the same slag."

"No, that's where you're wrong." his Kaonian accent suddenly morphed, "I'm not going to be among this filth for much longer, and you'll have your place beneath me."

Her optics widened in realization. This mech wasn't from Kaon. This whole time, it had been a hoax. All those moments where he had taunted her and used the term "_Brightplate_." _What a hypocrite!_

"You little faker..." she accused, "Well _neither_ of us are in a luxurious caste. _Both_ of us are stuck as Gladiators of the _same_ ranking. You're not better than me, and I'm not less than you." The femme planned to leave with the final word. Though it seemed like RocketShield had a point to make and wasn't letting her go until he made it. He grabbed her arm and gripped it tight.

"Correction, _I'm_ a Gladiator, _you're_ just someone's pleasurebot." he growled. Her optics widened and she looked absolutely indignant. She bared her denta and fiercely glared at him. If he said another word, she was going to show him why others had claimed she wasn't afraid to her claws dirty.

"But no, you're not just anyone's pleasure bot," he began, "You're _Soundwave's_ whore!"

At that moment, her self-restraint snapped. Any reasonable thought in her processor had been terminated. Any intention of harm she had, wasn't just going to be a simple urge for long. A roaring rage was like a flame in her spark, igniting every part of her frame and processor.

Darkstrike launched at him, her fist shattering right into his faceplates. It was the perfect moment, and the sound had been more pleasant than she dared to admit.

_Oh_, but she had waited so long to do that.

* * *

Their skirmish had bought the attention of many other mechs. Pretty soon, all of them had surrounded them, cheering for one or the other. Surprisingly, some mechs were cheering for... her. However, at the time, the energon running through her systems was too strong and she hardly paid them any mind. Darkstrike was more focused on beating the pride out of RocketShield.

They all whooped, encouraging her to continue. Despite her already throbbing wounds, she refused to forfeit. She hadn't before and she wouldn't now.

All those mechs watching would see that. And they weren't watching just for the entertainment. This was more of a test to see who could prove themselves more, on which of the two Gladiators had enough courage and strength to win. If she hadn't been held back, she feared that she would have beaten him completely.

Eventually, one of the owners had shown up and had forced the fight apart. She was sure that he wouldn't have said anything if it were nameless mechs fighting, but this was her. That meant there would be consequences.

The owner was livid, and had ordered her to the Med Bay. Darkstrike had energon all over, partially RocketShield's, and some hers. Needless to say, she wasn't looking alright. Her wounds had gotten worse; RocketShield had not left her unscathed. Any repairs Soundwave had done were ripped apart. The femme was leaking energon, and she had almost gone into stasis.

So she had gone to the medic, and the rest of the mechs were dismissed. It wasn't an easy trip, her legs wobbled and threatened to collapse beneath her.

Darkstrike currently lied on the examination berth, recovering after the medic had repaired her. He was rough though, much more than Soundwave was. She wasn't questioning his skill, but perhaps Soundwave's touch had been a little more adequate, for better word.

Suddenly, the door swished open.

_Speaking of the mech_.

Darkstrike averted her gaze, biting her lip. Half of her had expected him to come, half of her thought he wouldn't care. News in the Pits spread quickly, since apparently mechs were eager in sharing gossip.

Soundwave scanned the area, stopping only when he looked at her. She only held his gaze for a few nano-kliks. After that, he didn't bother with anything else. He approached her with that familiar silence of his.

The mech stopped when he was right next to her. His gaze made her go rigid; she was aware of his disapproval.

Soundwave stared at her, making sure she knew he was looking. He didn't have to ask for an explanation, the femme knew exactly what he wanted to hear without him having to communicate it.

"I engaged in the fight out of defense."

"..."

"I was tried of his antics. So I put him in his place."

He looked into her optics, and knew that there was something else. He didn't move or tear away his gaze. Soundwave knew that RocketShield was a fool, but the femme should have analyzed the circumstances. She was ignorant; Darkstrike should have never engaged in anything with her current state. She couldn't have picked a worse cycle to finally attack her tormentor.

"He called me a whore." she angrily growled.

_He called me your whore_.

He heard her thought clearly.

He didn't like it at all. Interactions with the femme had never included interface, and for RocketShield to suspect that, meant he knew certain information. Soundwave would deal with it much subtly than the femme had. If RocketShield wanted to disrespect him, then Soundwave would gladly return the favor.

His fingers went to her chin. He lifted her helm up to look at him. They both allowed each other to stare. His optics stared into hers and she simply stared into his visor. Darkstrike seemed to find it enthralling to stare at the reflexive surface of his visor. It was as if she was looking for something, though he was certain she would find nothing.

Her optics narrowed, but none of them pulled away. It interested him how much emotion the femme revealed, something Soundwave chose not to do.

_What are you thinking?_

That was the question she'd never receive an answer to.

The femme's servo gently wrapped around his own. Soundwave fought the urge to flinch. Her claws curled around his servo, gently grasping it. It was a light touch, something that wasn't sympathy, but something darker. The feeling in his spark went ignored.

A contrast to her own light touch, he roughly slid her off the table. He would take her to her chambers, making sure she recovered after her stupid actions. Neither of them had said anything, and Soundwave hadn't initiated any contact after that. He could still feel the femme's touch, but he wouldn't admit that he wasn't bothered by the fact.

* * *

**A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank you all for reaching 100. I hope the keep writing chapters for you wonderful people. Thank you, **_Dj Jazzy, Savvy Orion childofcommander, NordicAutobotGirl, Kaila, Neon, Dyna, Nevra Black, Deception is Decepticon, enmused, Diamond1502, FrankThePirate, turtlelly, Guestpersonanonymous, Luna Uchiha666, crazykenz, Alexandra-Sasha, Ippo, Xemnass, Fire Black Dragon, 19MedixNight, cybergeek84, Soundwave's Sparkmate, Shadefeather682, theawkwardmoment, at chapter 5, Pegadron123, Rumbling Frenzy, Missdudda, darkwolf, Lovelytales, Coranthium, Fabulous, The Jagdpanther , Stick, Generalfanatic, AroraHybrid _**for being as kind as you are and leaving a review. I do read _every single individual_ of them, but I don't have a chance to PM because my schedule. I'll get around to it, starting now. **

**I already have next chapter done, lets just say it's a special one. Cheers! **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: This was probably one of the most, if not the most difficult chapter to write. I actually had this done a while ago, probably since chapter 3 but I've edited so frequently because of everything that's happened. But here it is. A heads up, things do get a bit racy. **

**_Time_ (_Updated_) **

**Nano-klik: Second**

**Klik: Minute **

**Joor: Hours **

***Orn: 13 days (*Chapter 2 used to say minutes, but it has actually always been days)**

**Vorn: Year (A rough comparison since Cybertronian time is much different than human time)**

**Thank you wonderful readers for sharing your thoughts, it has definitely motivated and caused me to smile uncontrollably. Again, I will try to respond when I can. **

* * *

**Cupidity: _eager or excessive desire, esp. to possess something: greed; avarice._**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**_One Orn Later_**

It was late. Dim lights flickered, lighting the corridors before her. After staring at the ceiling of her room for a few joors, she decided it had been enough. Despite feeling weary, recharge was too far to reach.

Instead, in hopes to ease her tension, she wandered around the Pits. Sure, she ran into a few other mechs, but it wasn't as eventful as it once was.

While the flier kept her guard up, mechs didn't bother her much anymore. After they had witnessed what she had done to RocketShield, she had certainly gained some respect among them. Sure, she had gotten injured as well, but the femme had gained a name. Something that was mentioned along with her own designation. Mechs seemed to like referring her as the femme unafraid to get dirty. She had gained reputation. That was a lot more than what she had accomplished in her previous home, Altihex.

This phrase Darkstrike had earned, acknowledged that she could play their game just as well as they did. The femme made it clear that she would mangle with these mechs whenever necessary. Out in the field, the flier was prepared for torn wires and mech fluids.

Now that the mechs had gotten past her previous caste, it was now simple rivalry to see which Gladiator was the better.

One wrong step, and she would get mauled by them. But, Darkstrike was no longer a fool in strategy nor a stranger to skill. This definitely annoyed many mechs. After countless of joors training and working her way through the ranks, fighting each Gladiator, watching the energon bleed through, Darkstrike had considered herself a full Gladiator like the rest of them.

She wasn't proud of what she had to do, but accepting it was a sign of her new identity.

Not many femmes would have survived in her place, and in that she did take pride. Although it was simply survival, Darkstrike knew she had succeeded well.

_Despite not doing it without aid._

The femme's thoughts drifted to how she had earned her rank and who had been the one to help her.

Darkstrike highly doubted that she'd be able to beat a higher-ranking mech, such as Megatronus or Soundwave. She had already tried her best with Soundwave. The conclusion was failure, but she had still done good in her opinion. Soundwave wasn't too lenient in letting out any compliments though.

_Soundwave. _

The mech who had helped her.

Her spark began glowing, at the mention of said mech. Darkstrike used her servo to clutch her chassis. Again, _he_ managed to slip into her processor.

Not that she had been thinking about him...

_Ha, that's the biggest lie I've told yet. _

It was because of him she was roaming the corridors in the first place.

Thinking about him never left her in peace.

His intentions never added up, his murderous touch only confused her more. However, confusion wasn't the only thing she felt when around him.

Any hope she had was gone, Darkstrike knew she was completely taken by this Gladiator, _out of all them!_ It had to be _Soundwave_. Not a simple mech, not a low ranker, not an ordinary face in the crowd. It needed to be _him_. The emotionless, menacing, attractive-

The femme suddenly halted. Her optics widened, blinking at reality that dragged her from her thoughts. The flier looked up, seeing a familiar door. She hadn't realized where she had been wandering.

Her processor recognized the familiarity of Soundwave's door. Darkstrike had been there before… but on Soundwave's terms and never as late as this.

_What am I thinking?!_

Obviously about Soundwave.

She mentally growled at herself.

Darkstrike should leave. Her misguided decisions always bought the worst of conclusions. The stupid light source inside her was simply being stubborn. Nothing was waiting for her there, and maybe it was time to acknowledge that and _leave_.

* * *

Soundwave was letting the femme fill his thoughts involuntarily. His processor, so large for storing information, was uselessly wasting the space on _her_.

It was beyond primitive, more than what being a Gladiator required.

It was indignant.

It was _humiliating_.

He disapproved of himself completely.

He had let that femme get to him, despite the large boundaries he had set. The mech should have stopped when he had realized what she was capable of. He had observed her too much, he had watched her too vigorously. Soundwave prided himself to be extremely aware, but not vigilant enough to notice that _he_ was the one becoming infatuated with her.

Soundwave felt frustration. He didn't express this aloud, despite there being no one present. The actions were unnecessary and emotions were as subtle as he could make them, even for himself.

It only frustrated him more that he couldn't restrain what he felt. The aggravation pent up in his systems, giving him urges to _fight_.

...

There was a quiet clank at his door. The noise had been soft, making him believe it was caused unintentionally. The mech directed his helm towards the solid surface.

Soundwave initially thought the corridors were empty, but he now suspected otherwise. The mech wouldn't have thought twice about the sound, if he hadn't a suspicion on who it was.

He quickly placed his visor and walked towards the door, hastily unlocking it.

There was a yelp.

That confirmed it.

Standing in front of him, was the dark-armored femme. Her red optics tentatively met his visor. She fidgeted with herself, before composing her posture. Darkstrike's hesitation wore off from her optics intending to show another message. Her optics were wide, completely aware of the Gladiator in front of her.

Though he noticed the way her claws twitched; she was wary of his reaction.

"Soundwave... I apologize, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was looking for uh, Megatronus...?" Darkstrike said.

She was _lying_. No reason should have compelled her to meet up with that mech. She shouldn't have been searching for Megatonus. The silver mech was a brutal Gladiator, not to be trusted by this femme. Tension between him and the larger mech was still high, despite their frequent meetings. They only got along because of their match in skill. Darkstrike had no idea how deep the consequences were if she got involved with Megatronus, she had already seen what happened when affiliating herself with him. It would be no better with that mech. She needn't trouble herself with other mechs, least of all _Megatronus_. _Soundwave_ was the only high ranker she should involve herself with.

Soundwave's gaze become colder, causing her to shiver. It seemed Darkstrike had become aware of how unfriendly his demeanor had become.

The mech's visor was stuck in her direction. He was becoming even more agitated by the klik.

It was her fault.

All of it was because of the femme. He should have crushed her for making him feel like this, in the most pathetic of ways. She hardly ever managed to leave a much as a mark on him when they sparred. How was it that with doing absolutely _nothing_, she caused this affect on him? He was becoming weak... or perhaps she was too sinful.

He would accept neither.

Darkstrike made a hasty move to leave, but long fingers latched itself onto her arm. Becoming alarmed, Darkstrike unsheathed her claws and stuck at Soundwave. It was only out of self-defense. However, Soundwave immediately caught her wrist.

With quick and precise movements, Soundwave yanked her inside his room. His door quickly hissed shut, automatically locking.

Soundwave harshly slammed the femme into the wall, pinning her there. Darkstrike gasped when his visor was dangerously close to her faceplates. Attempting to resist, the femme struggled and even growled a few curses. He noticed her anxiety when she realized that there was no escape.

A dangerous silence lingered.

His servo flung around her neck, wrapping around it tightly in a chokehold. Darkstrike swallowed as panic and anger flooded her optics. Very slowly, long his fingers strained even more.

"S-Soundwave," she uttered, one servo trying to remove his, while the other remained pinned.

Soundwave relished in her squirming frame. He loomed over her, his servo only pressing further. She struggled to break free as her energon circulation began to cut off. Her denta gritted together.

The mech blocked her out completely, making sure he didn't hear her thoughts or voice. He knew that if he heard some part of her, he'd release her.

This femme dared to have the audacity to affect him like she did. She wasn't supposed to be of any significance to him. Darkstrike was supposed to be entertainment, a simple experiment. No one came in contact with Soundwave without any consequences. If she wanted to see Megatronus so badly, she would have to deal with Soundwave first.

He shoved her across the room.

Her optics filled with anger and confusion.

_What did I do?_

He stood in his position for another klik more. Darkstrike flashed him an expression of pain when he stood in a fighting stance. The Gladiator watched the panic flood through her optics. Her vents became heavier and the femme seemed uncertain on what to do.

Soundwave let out a frustrated sigh, although it sounded more like a growl. The femme seemed almost surprised from the sound.

He didn't feel such petty emotions, nor did he think them to be necessary. However, that femme had pushed him towards that uncharted territory, and this he would not tolerate. These thoughts were irrelevant. She was driving him to brink of insanity. Soundwave had never been so disorganized. All these slight emotions were useless he wanted to crush them all, including hers. One of them would end up wounded, and it wasn't going to be him.

Soundwave took the first move and struck at her. He managed to hit the target; Darkstrike never saw it coming.

"_Argg_!" she yelled. Soundwave watched as she looked up at him with a mix of pain and betrayal.

Her red optics darkened and her fists curled. She glared directly at him, as if wanting to harm him with a look.

Soundwave took it as a challenge, and both of them met halfway.

Rough armor began to crash dangerously. All boundaries had been forgotten and none of them seemed to be held back. Darkstrike knew very well who she was facing off. The femme also realized that this was not one of their usual spars. Soundwave wanted a real battle.

She attempted to match his level, but Soundwave had vorns of experience. This didn't lower her motivation though.

Bright sparks began flying off them from how forcibly their armor collided. All memories had been pushed aside making it as if they had never known each other. Pain was more physical than it was emotional at this point.

They fought helm on, forgetting where they were or what time it had been.

Soundwave only advanced forward, refusing to take a step back. Darkstrike decided to _make _him move.

Her leg shot up and struck him hard in the chest. This didn't sit well for him by the way he quickly recovered. Soundwave moved in forward with more speed, trying to corner her.

Again, she was shoved back in the wall. Her wings twitched at the light pain. Darkstrike wiped the energon from her lip and looked dead at Soundwave. The mech stood up straight, as if daring her to continue. The flier stood up in a single jump, her optics never leaving his visor.

In the moment of the fight, they had begun to knock and destroy a good part of his chambers. Walls were cracked, small things had been thrown across the room, and there had been a whole rearranging of objects.

Gladiator rooms weren't all that big, and fights like these required a good fraction of room. Loud bangs and cracks were the result of their unruly way of fighting. They had been forced back into his possessions. Darkstrike had been kicked to the wall and Soundwave had used some of his things as weapons against her.

It was coming to the point where Darkstrike was fighting dirty. Soundwave was getting too close to beating her and she couldn't have that. He had struck her multiple times, and she was having a hard time keeping up from how intense he was fighting. The only emotion she could decipher was his anger. Darkstrike was befuddled on why he had decided to take it out on her.

But the femme sure as Pit she wasn't going to take the time to ask him.

Her aft was on the floor and her back leaned against the wall. Soundwave was beginning to walk forward, his long silhouette shadowing over her.

He had the upper hand, but something seemed odd about his movements. The mech wasn't sloppy, but he was being too quick. He lacked his usual grace, replaced by Kaonian brute strength.

The femme might have not been from Kaon, but she would show him that she was just as capable enough to adapt.

She launched at him. It was better to do so now, when she had the chance because soon enough, Soundwave release those tendrils of his. If that happened, it meant immediate loss for her; she might as well kiss her spark goodbye.

Darkstrike tackled, causing him to fall backward. They fell to the floor with her on top of him. She looked dead into his visor and punched him there. Not only once, but multiple times. Her fist collided loudly, strike after strike. And then finally, she heard a crack.

She let raw emotion dictate her actions. The femme still couldn't wrap her processor around the significance of this violence. The other cycle, they shared such an intimate moment in the Med bay. Soundwave had helped her! Soundwave had been there! He had seen her capability.

But... did Soundwave really care?

He wasn't pretending to be anyone who sympathized for her. He wasn't her savior, and _this_ was a sign that he wasn't her friend either. And perhaps that was her mistake for believing so.

Rage flooded through her system and coolant threatened to fall from her optics. Someone always had to betray Darkstrike. She always felt like the world had played her, _every_ single bot had played her. The femme was the discarded part of her caste, even her creators hadn't liked her. She drove off her past love, and now... Now she was going to add Soundwave to the list...

No. No.

"_No_!"

Her claws dug into his visor, and she ripped it off.

The moment she did that, time had slowed.

The clasps on his helm had undone and broken. The black surface was cleanly yanked off his helm. Small shards flew into the air and sprinkling to the floor. His visor landed with two light clanks beside them.

Her optics turned back to Soundwave. Her red orbs widened in fear and disbelief.

His face was revealed to her.

The heat in her systems suddenly ran freezing cold. Her actions had faltered and optics were glued to him. Her mouth was agape in complete astonishment.

Soundwave looked absolutely livid.

If she felt like his optics bore into her before, then his optics could have pierced her spark now. It was one thing being watched from behind a mask, but now he was looking at her directly. His optics were glued to hers, and they were a bright crimson red, suggesting that he was not happy. Soundwave bordered along being emotionless and enraged. She didn't know how it was possible for someone to look enraged without visible facial expression.

Darkstrike couldn't remember what happened next. The next thing she knew was that she was pinned to the wall, slammed harshly with the least amount of care possible.

Again, his servo latched on to her neck. This time he seemed completely serious.

She choked as it tightened further. Her servos wrapped around his tightly to try and loosen his hold.

The femme's optics revealed a flurry of emotions. She was hurting, physically and emotionally. Coolant began to drip from her optics. He had only seen her tears once, but time, he was the one to have causes it.

"Soundwave...!"

The sound of her voice caused him to freeze. His steel grip loosened just enough. The femme vented deeply a few times, as she tried to compose the circulation of energon.

His servo released her. It slid up to grab her chin, tilting it up to him. Soundwave pressed closer to her, immediately making her freeze. His other servo went to her waist to pull her against him.

"Submit to Soundwave."

As if she couldn't be any more surprised.

"W-what...?"

"_Submit_." he repeated.

Darkstrike furrowed her optic-ridges. The mech's helm inched closer to hers. He pressed his forehelm onto hers. Fueled by his current frustration, he saw no other fitting action. Both helms pressed against each other and Darkstrike couldn't help her confusion.

There was silence.

He saw the familiar blush spread across her faceplates. A shaky vent emanated from Darkstrike.

While the flier was absolutely bewildered by his actions, she took the opportunity to look directly at him. She wandered through the depths of his crimson optics, unable to look else where. Darkstrike was captivated by his aesthetic, almost blushing at how pleasant he looked. Soundwave looked at her expectantly, awaiting an answer.

Darkstrike was vulnerable in front of him. Her frame quivered as his chassis pressed flush to hers. Armor was against armor. Her legs trembled, and her glossa constantly ran over her mouth. The blue on her face brightened. Soundwave's actions were no longer threatening, rather... sensual. The femme was the first one to notice this.

The Gladiator didn't know what to do with the femme anymore. Soundwave obviously couldn't ignore her, but neither was it sane to continue to see her. He was left with very few options.

This little game they had, had turned into a full battle. Soundwave wasn't bested by just anyone, and he needed to make sure that it stayed like that. The mech had risked, and succumbed to it all. He thought himself to be pitiful, but all be damned for this femme.

After a few moments, she finally responded.

"_Make me_," she spat.

Soundwave looked at her and she stared back. His expression hadn't changed, but he hadn't expected her to respond so defiantly. The femme was equally shocked at her own words.

Soundwave was going to make her devour them.

Both of them exchanged looks.

Suddenly, their lips crashed together in a shattering kiss. The mech could feel her embarrassment, and it had made him want more. The femme responded, kissing him the with the same amount of fervor. Darkstrike leaned into him, matching him with a strong passion. Her servos wrapped around the back of his helm to deepen their contact.

Soundwave couldn't do anything else much to his anger. He had already resorted to violence and now it was the lust he had pent up for long. Soundwave didn't think twice about it. Her lips were too close, and he was angry for her torment. The temptation had been too poisonous. She had been asking for it.

His spark surged a few times. Both of them were in deep passion, wanting to savor each other's unique taste. It took him a while before he wanted to break away from the femme.

His helm quickly departed and turned towards his own chassis. This left the femme in a frenzy of her own emotions. Her cooling fans turned on. Darkstrike panted, causing her face to flush blue.

He felt his spark begin to glitch again. Then he saw the spark across him glow. His own life source copied her actions. Darkstrike's spark glowed brightly, attempting to reach out of her chassis.

He quickly snapped his helm back to her in surprise. His bared faceplates didn't reveal anything, but he made it obvious that he expected an answer. Darkstrike's servos escaped from Soundwave's loose grip and she clutched her chassis, preventing him from gazing at her spark. She kept her servos pressed tightly above her chassis, embarrassed at the excitement of it. Light faceplates burned and her optics averted from his view.

Darkstrike was hiding from him.

The femme couldn't have thought she could shield that easily. Darkstrike would be a coward if she turned her back from a fight. She had been brave enough to tear out his visor and engage him.

The femme wasn't going to shy away from him that easily. This battle was far from over.

Still, despite being so close, she wouldn't look at him.

Darkstrike was in denial.

Darkstrike was negating what rightfully belonged to...

to _who_?

He wasn't going to give the accusation that the femme was his...

The femme was simply a _past time _from the dull Gladiator cycles. Just... _entertainment_... Simply an _experiment_...

No. Not anymore. Not when the obvious was right in front of him.

Her spark rightfully belonged to _him. _

The mech had the ability to extinguish it when he wanted, yet he had refrained.

Soundwave's sharp digits gripped her wrists and slammed them against the wall. The metal made a loud clash.

Darkstrike gasped. She turned to look at him. This time, the feeling of being watched intensified. Those orbs of his were enough to chill her and make her melt at the same time. Darkstrike lowered her helm to the side, attempting to avoid them. She was losing control.

Darkstrike couldn't deny it any longer. She felt an immense attraction and it only increased with his servos on her protoform.

Her optics stared at the ground, hesitation in looking straight at him. This didn't satisfy Soundwave. He did not accept fear, especially from the femme who had looked at him defiantly before she had offlined in the first spar between them. The Gladiator shifted her wrists so that only one his servos was keeping them pinned. The other one grabbed on to her chin, gently pulling her helm, forcing her to look at him. Her optics widened.

Darkstrike was losing it completely. Her spark glowed brightly, _yearning_ for the mech in front of her. Her optics fluttered opened for him, her back arching to get a better feel of his frame. She suppressed a shiver as Soundwave's sharp digits brushed against her chin.

"You are mine," Soundwave spoke. The tone of his voice created a blue flush on her faceplates. Darkstrike's thoughts suggested that she was hardly uncomfortable by his words. Soundwave almost growled. His own reactions were kept hidden from her. Darkstrike stared deep into his faceplates.

There had been evident possession in his tone. Darkstrike couldn't help but finding it... fitting and very... enticing. She wanted to hear it once more, she wanted him to speak.

Soundwave used his sharp thin fingers to delicately trail from her chin, to her neck, onto her chassis. His sharp fingers slid slowly, achingly over the bright spark that had tormented her for so long. Darkstrike clenched her denta together as she warily eyed him from her arched neck. Then, finally came a loud moan as Soundwave gripped onto her chassis, right where her spark lied. The feel of having this mech claim such a sacred area, her life source, made her ache even more.

She looked away in embarrassment when she realized how loud her moan had been.

There was no more delaying Soundwave from what was his. Darkstrike would soon know this. He would allow himself this luxury. This was not his entertainment, this was his claim. She would be his, and recognize the fact. The Gladiator ran his servo though her frame, claiming it all, exploring all of it, wanting to hear the lengthy sounds she made.

The femme certainly resisted in allowing him to hear her such harmonious vocals. Soundwave liked the challenge. However, in the end, he would make sure he would hear all the femme's... sound waves. His statement had more than one meaning.

"_Soundwave_..." her optics shuttered shut. There it was. His fingers dipped into her spark, slim fingers being able to reach farther than her spark chamber.

She withered under him. He enjoyed that he affected her in such a way. He caused her such wanton. He would make her fall, and Soundwave would gladly catch her.

He let go of her wrists, one going to her backstruts while the other was on her hip, keeping her in place.

Darkstrike opened her optics and immediately noticed his faceplates. The mech's optics had darkened, and she could have sworn he was smirking. She observed his faceplates more clearer, since she had yanked his visor off. After countless of occasions wondering how he looked like, she finally caught a glimpse.

The flier was far from disappointed. She tentatively raised her claws to brush against his features, a strange wariness apparent. She gazed into his optics. They were a beautiful crimson... She greedily took in his appearance, trying to remember it all. The femme's optics wandered towards lips. Darkstrike wanted more.

Now that he had initiated intimate contact, Soundwave brung her closer to his body. He was beginning to become impatient. He grabbed onto her thighs and easily lifted her up. He threw her onto his berth, disregarding her wings. He pressed up against her, wrapping his fingers onto her wrists again. Soundwave leaned down to her faceplates.

Then she received a delicious kiss from him for the second time.

He pressed his lips against hers. Soundwave devoured her lips, his rough kisses sending Darkstrike into bliss. She moaned against him, closing her optics. Soundwave felt the vibration pass through him, making him internally growl.

Darkstrike arched into him, attempting to keep up with his rigorous movements. She matched his fervor, sensually biting onto his bottom lip. If her audios didn't lie, she could have sworn that he had moaned. Soundwave ran his glossa over her lips. Once her mouth opened, the kiss deepened. Darkstrike's glossa met his, in an almost needy way. His glossa claimed and explored her mouth. They fought and battled, both in hopes of winning. Soundwave was quick to assert dominance and overpower her. Darkstrike fought hard, but in the end... Soundwave fought harder.

To make sure of victory, Soundwave had let go on of her wrists and wandered to her inner thigh, tickling her sensitive nodes. His touch was painstakingly slow. He then gripped the area, the sound of the metal causing excitement to run through her frame. She opened her mouth to emit another sound of pleasure. Soundwave took that vulnerability to defeat her in their passionate kiss.

Darkstrike took the time to run her claws and dig them through any space through his armor. She ran them down his back, hearing the shriek of metal as they made marks. She heard Soundwave hiss. Darkstrike felt his powerful upper body with her claws, groping him as he had done to her. She accidentally reached his into his subspace. The femme couldn't care less; she invaded his personal space without mercy. Her claws finally settling on his spark. She fiddled with the glowing vulnerable spark that lied under his armor. That fact that he was letting her touch a part of him that was so intimate... made her squirm.

He briefly broke their kiss as he subtly shuddered. Their sparks glowed brightly in their spark-chambers, the rays of light touching each other.

He ascended from her lips, only to drag his denta down her neck, roughly biting on sensitive wires, and running his glossa in an almost sardonic way. He could hear very pleased sounds from the femme in front of him.

Soundwave rose and looked into her optics. His servo ran down her abdomen, gently caressing it. The mech's fingers teased her, lightly traveling over her. His gentleness didn't last for long. Suddenly, his fingers dug in roughy, probably causing more scratches and tears. Darkstrike found herself craving more his dark nature.

Darkstrike's main goal was to get Soundwave out of her processor, now, it was impossible. She was sure recharge wouldn't come in a _long _time.

* * *

A bittersweet pain greeted her that morning.

Her red optics slowly opened, focusing on the intrusive wall in front of her. She slightly shifted her position. As Darkstrike tried to move, she found two things preventing her from doing so. Her middle area _ached_. Small volts of pain attacked her thighs and wrists. _Oh_ _slag,_ that wasn't good.

She also felt cold... and warm.

The next reason, was the long armored arm draped around her frame, preventing her from moving. Darkstrike was pressed up against something warm. Something firm. She could even feel it through her back and wings. The solid figure was most likely the presence of another bot. Her optics focused at the armor wrapped around her. It was a thick arm, mostly composed of armor. The events were a bit hazy at first, but it didn't long for her processor to clear. Darkstrike finally realized where she was and who was behind her.

It was none other than Soundwave's arm wrapped around her frame.

Realization hit her hard.

She was on Soundwave's berth. Soundwave was holding her against him. Soundwave and her... they... had _interfaced_. A bright blush covered her faceplates. She realized that she was in protoform as well, only partial of her armor remaining. They had engaged in... many activities... and it made Darkstrike feel very weary and very satisfied.

Darkstrike recalled the cycle before. It was _eventful,_ to say the least. Soundwave had claimed her, ravaged her, and made her feel vivid. The memories had certainly cleared.

The clashing of metal, electric sparks flying everywhere, claws digging in armor, his sharp digits in her proto-form, a feeling of excitement masked by waves of pleasure...

Darkstrike blushed harder. Soundwave... knew pleasure, _oh_ _yes_... he knew it well. She found out that he was a very insatiable mech, not to mention very _rough_. The feeling of his servos possessively running through her frame caused her to shiver. Darkstrike wasn't complaining; after being in the Gladiator Pits for a few vorns, all she knew was rough. It seemed that she loved rough, and wanted it if it meant Soundwave's touch. The dents in the armor he had ripped off proved it.

Though... he wasn't _only _rough. For a mech that never took his visor off... he sure knew how to use his mouth. And, _Oh Primus, _the possibilities he had shown her. His taste was... irresistible. He tasted toxic, poisonous even. Never in her life had she tasted anything so wrong, despite being so good. _  
_

Another realization hit her hard.

She had interfaced. Not just with any ordinary mech. Not with an ordinary face she'd be forgetting. She had _interfaced_ with Soundwave... _The_ Soundwave... The high ranking Gladiator! The silent dangerous mech. One of The Pit's best champions...

Darkstrike didn't know whether to feel frightened of honored. The sudden pain radiating from her mid-areas probably suggested both.

Her waist was dented and a mild pain radiated from where he had gripped her. The femme was certainly not complaining though.

_O__h Primus_, the sensations he made her feel! She was beginning to see why all mechs were eager for this activity. Not that Darkstrike was prepared to engage it that often. This was most likely a onetime thing, something not repeated often.

After so long of dealing with the emotions in her spark, she was lucky enough for Soundwave to respond. The feelings she harbored for him might have not been entirely returned, but they weren't ignored either.

The cycle before had been intense. It had started out with violent lashes and a very intense atmosphere. Darkstrike had feared the worst would happen, but on the contrary.

Perhaps it was for his own pleasure... but Darkstrike wouldn't allow herself to think that. He was so possessive, she refused to believe that he had taken anyone with that much fervor.

She would have been alone that morning if her assumption was wrong. Although, Darkstrike _was_ only assuming. The femme never actually knew what went on in his processor.

Either way, her body was content, even with the soreness she felt. At the very least, her stupid spark would no longer torment her like it always had. The weight would finally be removed from her shoulders.

Even though she was sure that there would be consequences, she didn't care. The femme didn't regret anything. Last cycle, Darkstrike merely gave in to something she had _wanted_. It was a dangerous _want_, and she couldn't help but blush at where she ended up. Soundwave had awakened her, even enlightened her from the Pits.

As wondrous as she felt, she knew that her happiness had originated from the feelings she had for Soundwave, feelings Soundwave probably didn't return.

Though, Darkstrike didn't mind. After all, she still very much part-took in it. Both of them had certainly done something during their time together.

Carefully shifting, Darkstrike was surprised that the strong arms had let her turn around. Though she hadn't realized how close their proximity was. Her chassis almost pressed against his, and she felt his rough armor against her softer protoform. Darkstrike found him pleasantly warm, and she hesitantly leaned closer.

The femme let her optics gaze at him. She was almost surprised to see that he didn't have his visor on.

Then she remembered that she had yanked it off his helm yesterday. Something told her that he wouldn't be happy about that when he awoke.

At least without the black reflection, she could see how he actually looked like.

Soundwave was... handsome. The pale grey color on his faceplates was not common. The different shades of his optics were an incomparable crimson. His stoic expression chilled her in unimaginable ways. Light lines ran down from his optics, down to his mouth. She wanted to see his optics, his _rare_ smirk. Darkstrike knew that she wouldn't be seeing much of that anymore.

Even in his recharge, he seemed cold with indifference. She carefully bought up her claw to his face. Before she could touch it, Soundwave's optics opened. His servo snapped and instinctively grabbed on to her arm. Unnerving red orbs looked into her.

His optics glowed a deep red. The shape of his optics bought more appeal to his face.

The dark-armored femme looked away in embarrassment while tugging at the arm in his grasp. As Darkstrike made a move to back up, Soundwave's arms held her, his sharp fingers squeezing her proto-form. This caused Darkstrike to yelp in surprise. His eyes scanned hers, then drifted to her nearly-bare proto-form.

Her spark was almost bared to him, but Darkstrike made a move to cover it. She flushed and narrowed her optics at his audacious gazing. Soundwave internally smirked. He suddenly pressed her tighter against him. This amount of physical contact had not been so expected from him. He leaned down into her audios. In a low voice he spoke.

"Your query?" he asked. He didn't miss Darkstrike's shiver. She gasped. Soundwave saw how her faceplates lit up with blue. He felt the slightest of satisfaction.

"I... You were online...?"

"Darkstrike's thoughts: intriguing."

Darkstrike looked away as she flushed. A deep embarrassment filled her. She had forgotten that Soundwave was a telepath. It must have slipped her processor.

Soundwave on the other servo, wasn't too sorry about listening.

He had heard Darkstrike's thoughts... _all _of them. Her thoughts had been so loud that they had managed to wake him before he had decided to open his optics. They were very interesting, and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't find them interesting.

It definitely pleased him to know that Darkstrike was obviously smitten by him and enticed by his actions. As if he didn't already devour the times she had moaned and yelled out his name. It also interested him to know that she had developed feelings for him. Vorns ago, he would have dismissed such a statement.

Soundwave almost never spoke, and yet, with his actions, he had made the femme become fond of him. Soundwave wouldn't to admit any emotions on his part.

He placed his servo under her chin, bringing her helm to aligned to his. Her optics looked into his, and Soundwave allowed the faintest of smirks to appear. Darkstrike's optics widened as she caught it. Her blue blush returned. The femme seemed to enjoy ravaging his aesthetic with her optics.

She moved back, only to have his arms stop her again, possessively bringing her closer. This was something she was not used to. A great portion of her did want to press back on his warm chassis, but her nervousness got the better of her.

"I apologize for your visor." Darkstrike blurted out. The femme's current behavior was less than facinating; she certainly wasn't acting like this yesterday.

Though she had bought up a valid point.

Soundwave wasn't entirely grateful that his visor was broken off. However, removing it had been the beginning of the long night between them. The mech wouldn't punish the femme for breaking it, she had endured enough.

He'd need to repair it right away if he wanted to leave his chambers anytime soon. If he needed any other materials, Soundwave was sure that the femme would be _delighted_ to go seeing as it was her fault.

He narrowed his optics at her so subtly she probably missed it. That was his only warning before he suddenly sprang forward, closing the distance between their lips. Both lip plates crashed together, and Soundwave bit her silver lip plates. Giving out a groan, Darkstrike dimmed her optics. He made Darkstrike squirm, for a few moments. Nevertheless, he reluctantly loosened his grip.

Soundwave left the femme in a fritz when he departed. The Gladiator stood up before he began placing a portion of the armor back onto his frame.

It wasn't until then that Darkstrike snapped out of her dazed reaction. Her dimmed optics reverted to their normal red color. Astonishment and embarrassment filled her spark causing her to avert her gaze. The dark-armored femme followed his actions and stood up as well. Darkstrike winced, taking a deep vent. She looked at Soundwave and immediately stopped herself from making any other noises.

Soundwave noticed the way she hid her pain from him. He wasn't oblivious; he didn't need to feel her pain to notice it was there. Of course he wouldn't comment, but now that he had seen her in a different way, he stared for longer.

The femme stumbled and held on to the nearest object while firmly planting her pedes onto the ground. Her legs wobbled, and he could sense her discomfort. Though Darkstrike wouldn't face him, Soundwave knew better. He watched as his femme attempted not to appear vulnerable. He wasn't certain why; Soundwave had defeated her in everyone of their spar, he had repaired her, he had seen her bare. It was absurd. Either way, his femme seemed intent to appear indifferent.

And Darkstrike was certainly _his _femme. He had rightfully claimed her in this affair, and she was his until he said so. The femme had bought this on her own accord. She had provoked him, and hadn't wanted to leave him be.

So Soundwave would let her believe she had the liberty to chose any mech she desired, but their reality was a different story.

He watched as his femme covered herself with her arms. The flier began to pick up her armor parts from the floor. She seemed to try to appear indifferent in her bare proto-form, but Soundwave could see her nervous glances towards him. The Gladiator femme wobbled unsteadily. She didn't feel comfortable, especially as he watched her.

He observed her protoform and the way it moved and flexed. He knew his silent leering caused her displeasure, which was why he stared longer. Darkstrike turned her back to him, in hopes that he stopped. Her wings slightly parted and shifted. Soundwave noticed the mark he had left.

The mech silently stood up, his silent pede-steps making their way towards her. The Gladiator was silent, his movements quick and stealthy. He picked up a piece of her dark armor from the floor. He quickly made his way from behind. Once he was close to Darkstrike, one servo curled around her waist and the other firmly grasped the spot by her hip.

Darkstrike had struggled to place her armor on as Soundwave's gaze was on her. She tried to do it as quickly as possible... that was, before two familiar servos were on her. She yelped as it was squeezed.

Darkstrike turned back and saw Soundwave standing there, an unreadable expression on his faceplaces. The looming mech made her gasp. She turned her helm to face him. His sharp digits dug in her protoform.

"Error: Turning back towards enemies." Soundwave spoke. Darkstrike's audios enhanced at the sound of his beautiful voice. Her red optics narrowed towards him.

"Are you my enemy?" she questioned. Soundwave roughly placed her armor and said nothing more. She searched his faceplates, but he remained quiet. It didn't matter if he did, he didn't need words to communicate his message.

Darkstrike knew one thing.

Something had definitely shifted in their relationship, and she was no ordinary femme to him anymore.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Look at that, I'm alive. I have not updated since last year huh? I am ashamed of myself for abandoning this for such a long time. Please pardon me, I know I suck. You all are so kind to me and I respond with hiatus. **

**However, since today is my birthday, I thought it would be nice to update as a gift to you all. I may not always respond to all your reviews, but I certainly read them, and they definitely make me beam! **

**Thank you for your precious (and some deliciously long) reviews to: iGleep, JahnDavis34, The Jagdpanther, Deception is Decepticon, ZenaZie, NordicAutobotGirl, crazykenz, Da Dj Jazzy Maxyne, Xemnass, turtlelly, Kaila, A.R, Darkness Protects, TheForgottenOne, darkwolf, BeeHideLover, QueenOfTheSilver98**

**Questions: _Did Darkstrike and Soundwave sparkbond?_**

**No they did not ;) **

**_Do you have a quotev?_ **

**Unfortunately no, but I might consider making one. **

_**Will Starscream appear?**_

**Yes he will.**

* * *

**Amicable: _friendly, agreeable_**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

There was no way to audibly express her mortification. Soundwave knew, she couldn't have been more sure.

Darkstrike still couldn't fathom how a simple walk in the hall had led to... to _this_. She didn't even know what _this_ was. The Gladiator femme was still having a hard time processing what had exactly occurred the cycle before. Urges to kill her, had turned into urges of desire. She would certainly never look at him the same way again, that was for sure. Soundwave, for the most part, didn't seem to be acting too different. Not that it surprised her; she had always known Soundwave to be indifferent.

Either way, Darkstrike didn't know what would become of this.

They were Gladiators, they couldn't actually hold a stable relationship. The mech didn't seem too intent in beginning one in the first place. The femme knew that she had crossed a few boundaries in their relationship-acquaintanceship, but there were still certain limits.

Nothing should have changed... They had fragged, there shouldn't be any explanation for it. It was a simple activity, all feelings set aside. Many Gladiators interfaced, she was sure, but this didn't feel like that. Other Gladiators hadn't had the same type of relationship her and Soundwave had, if she wanted to call it that.

That, or Darkstrike was simply overelaborating the situation. For all she knew, she was his one-cycle stand. Soundwave may have simply needed release. It would make sense, considering he had taken out his anger during their skirmish. She might have been another femme to add to his list. Thinking about it like that, began to make her feel pretty pathetic. Darkstrike didn't like that. She wanted to mean more than any other insignificant pleasurebot in Kaon. She was no one's whore, and she had proved that multiple times before.

Of course, currently being pressed up against the wall while Soundwave devoured her lips, certainly wasn't helping her situation.

He parted, watching her squirm and exhale for a few moments. A noticeable blush had spread across her light faceplates. Darkstrike was obviously sore from the night before, but rejecting his taste was impossible. She internally scoffed. _As if rejecting him was even an option._ The dark-armored femme didn't know who had the lead in their relationship, but it was obvious she wasn't the dominant one.

Soundwave grabbed her chin and lifted it so that she looked at him. Her half-lidded optics had dimmed from the sudden assault. All she could do was helplessly stare at his handsome faceplates. His servo drifted to her thigh, knowing she was aching. His fingers roughly caressed her inner thighs. It was obvious to Darkstrike that Soundwave was mocking her. Despite being aware of it, she could do nothing about it.

The flier hitched, hesitating in grabbing him like he did to her. It had been appropriate the cycle before, but now it seemed a bit unnerving. Soundwave didn't like contact from others, she noticed. Even in previous circumstances, the Gladiator femme had only really touched him when they were sparring or he was recharging. Placing her servos on him with such permission was almost taboo for her. Although, he didn't seem to have much of an issue grabbing her himself. _Hypocrite._

As far as she knew, the femme had the privilege of being the only one he touched. _How lucky of me._

His optics looked into her own, the action causing her to freeze with mixed emotions. As much as she had grown into liking his face, Darkstrike wasn't sure she felt comfortable around his piercing optics. Soundwave stared intently, so much that she could practically see the intelligent thoughts swirling in his crimsons. It was the visor that usually shielded the intensity from everyone. Judging by the way his orbs followed her intently, Darkstrike inferred he was very aware of his surroundings. It was not hard to see how he knew so much. _Silent and watchful._

"Repairs needed," he spoke. His deep Kaonian accent startled her. Her audios definitely distinguished a difference of his voice now that he, or rather she had rid of the mask.

The flier processed his statement.

Her optics widened and she bit her lip to hide her embarrassment. Darkstrike couldn't forget that she had yanked his visor off without any consent. It was probably broken, and like he said, repairs were needed.

"I assume you don't have a spare..." she mumbled. He didn't respond or move from their position against the wall.

His silence answered her question.

To repair his visor, one of them would have to leave the room. It was obvious that it wasn't going to be him. Soundwave couldn't fix it without revealing his face to others, something he surely wouldn't risk.

Darkstrike let out a frustrated groan. The mech pressed closer to her, their sparks too close for her own good.

"Cause: Darkstrike's own consequences," he said. She slightly leaned forward and narrowed her optics at him.

"You didn't seem to be complaining either," she muttered. His servo roughly squeezed her thigh in warning. Darkstrike knew that glaring at him wouldn't lessen his hold or please him. Though it drove her mad, she stopped resisting.

_You really aggravate me, you slagger! _

The corner of his lips lifted, just slightly into a nearly invisible smirk.

Her faceplates immediately flushed with a vibrant blue. The energon flooded through her, causing her internal temperature to rise. Suddenly flabbergasted with his appearance, Darkstrike was unable to speak without stuttering her words. The femme looked away, pretending to act like she was unaffected.

Nevertheless, Soundwave still had her in his hold, and was certainly not blind, especially when the femme was only a few inches from him. He could sense her embarrassment and he was aware of her frame becoming warmer than it was a few kliks ago. The Gladiator saw the way her optics pointed away, but her posture remained directed solely towards him. She twitched from then and there, her servos wanting to move the position in which he had her in.

Darkstrike mumbled something inaudible. Soundwave inferred that her lack of speech was because of her unbalanced state.

He attempted to decipher her words.

"Just give me the stupid visor."

Soundwave wasn't satisfied.

"Retrieve it." he said. Darkstrike's optics pointed at him accusingly. Her vermillion orbs drifted from his optics, to the visor that lied on the floor in the middle of the wreckage that currently identified as his room.

The femme frowned in disbelief. She looked at him, waiting for him to ellaborate. When he didn't, Darkstrike began struggling underneath him. She quietly growled when she realized that he wasn't budging.

"Soundwave..."

He was pleased with the way she uttered his designation. Soundwave lowered his helm, lightly kissing her faceplates. What was thought to be a gentle gesture, suddenly escalated into another one of his antics. His denta brushed over her bottom lip. The Gladiator suddenly bit her too hard, causing her to moan because of two different reasons.

* * *

Darkstrike walked down the corridors, rubbing the light energon that had leaked from her lips. She glared at the floor, reminiscing the mech who had been the one to assault her. Being intimate with Soundwave certainly meant that there had to be _some_ harm inflicted on her. What aggravated her even more was that it only increased her wanton towards him. Darkstrike had a burning feeling that it wouldn't be the last time she'd feel like this.

Many questions continued to bubble in her processor. The reason why Soundwave had attacked her in the first place was still a mystery. Her servo unconsciously grasped her neck at the memory. The femme swallowed hard. The other Gladiator had seemed determined to choke her, but for some reason, changed his intentions completely. Being intimate with him didn't eliminate the fear Darkstrike felt towards him. In fact, it served as a reminder that the mech was still a grand figure, not be taken lightly.

Instead of the shudder she expected, her gears clicked in delight at the fact.

_You are mine_.

Those words could have been uttered to plenty of femme's, but Darkstrike stubbornly chose to believe they were solely meant for her.

As always, the mech continued to lead her around in circles and she was no where near progressing than she was cycles ago. She wasn't sure of his intentions. Soundwave hadn't expressed any desire for interface before yesterday, _well_, aside from all the groping he did. However, the mech had only done this to demonstrate his dominance; as far as she knew, it hadn't really been lust.

Her only choice was to continue with this to try and find some type of explanation. The reason why he had helped her before hadn't been to have her in berth, it was something else.

_Then why had he taken the precious time from his cycle to help a lost cause like me?_

She found Soundwave's mutual interest in her extremely surprising. He must of found something worth while in her, if he was willing to partake in that sort of passion. In all honesty, Darkstrike had expected only raw rejection from him.

Now the flier wasn't sure what she could expect from this little affair.

If Soundwave wanted to act indifferent about their night, she would sadly accept that.

However, if he wanted to repeat it... _well_, if there was anything she learned from being in the Pits, it was that life was not simple. There would be consequences. Everything valuable came with a downside; good always came with the bad. Life was not as simple as she had first depicted it to be.

As she approached her destination, the thoughts momentarily left her processor.

Darkstrike came across a large door. It slid across and retracted with a deafening crack. She stepped forward, allowing the door to close behind her. Once she entered the large room, her quick pedesteps had suddenly slowed. Her wings gave a rare twitch and her optics widened largely.

"Magnesium..." she murmured. Swindle and Magnesium turned to face the bot who interrupted them. The velvet mech grinned and hopped over the counter to greet her. He gleefully jumped and encircled his arms around her. The mech took her into a crushing embrace. He was strong enough to lift her so that her pedes were off the ground. Magnesium shook her for a bit, and Darkstrike felt like she had dislocated a few limbs. Her current soreness wasn't helping either.

"There's the femme." he chuckled.

"I do not of approve this, let me go..." she breathed. He suddenly opened his arms, causing her to stumble back. "If only everyone else was that happy to see me,"

"I'm always delighted to see you, sweetspark," Swindle pipped.

"I'm sure you are..." she responded.

"Ah, look at you," Magnesium's optics revised her up and down, "You look like absolute slag." Darkstrike wasn't sure how someone could have said that with such a positive attitude.

Darkstrike deadpanned, "Thanks."

"Anytime," he replied.

She opened her mouth to reply with a snarky comment.

"Heard you were the one that made sure I got this damn job back," he said.

For a moment, Darkstrike had nothing to say.

"And I gotta thank you, you really saved my aft there," Magnesium said.

Darkstrike raised an optic-ridge. "What do you mean?"

"They were going to send me to the mines. Primus knows those are even worse than these slums."

"The mines...?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure you know what those are, dontcha?" the velvet mech asked.

"Yes, yes. The senator always assured us that those workers were treated respectfully and along with excellent conditions," the femme Gladiator responded.

"Ha! And you believed them?" Magnesium questioned.

"No, but it's nice to know my suspicions were right. Looks like I wasn't all that crazy after all," she said.

"Says the femme who risked death out in the arena for this glitch over here," Swindle mocked. Magnesium turned around and threw his datapad at the arms-dealer.

"I heard that!" he exclaimed. Magnesium traveled over towards the counter to snatch his possession back. Swindle simply gave him an amused expression before raising his arms up in defeat. The red mech turned away to his own business.

"So you're here for something, I assume." Swindle turned his attention to her. Darkstrike snapped out of her trans and approached the mechs.

"Because I'm feeling awfully generous today, my services won't cost you as much as last time," he winked at her.

"How kind of you." she rolled her optics. While the femme was ready to retort with more sarcastic remarks, she wasn't there to socialize. "About how much would it cost for you to fix something?"

"Depends what it is." Swindle said.

"...A mask," she hesitated. The last thing Darkstrike wanted was any implications.

"I'm going to need a little more than that," the businessmech rolled his optics, "Lets speed this up, do you have it on you?"

Darkstrike shuffled uncomfortably. Her optics momentarily drifted away, "Yeah..."

"Well then let me see it."

She took it out of her subspace. The cracked visor reflected her faceplates, and she almost expected the mech to be watching her, despite the mask being unattached to Soundwave.

Swindle examined it, his purple optics narrowing as he reached out to grab it. "Hmm... that looks surprisingly familiar, haven't I seen that from somewhere...?"

Darkstrike tensed. Magnesium looked up in curiosity. He took a glance at the visor.

"Say... isn't tha—" he stopped his sentence when Darkstrike threw him a panicked expression. She hastily shook her head at him, subtly communicating her message. He noticed her urgency and gave her a strange look.

"What'd you say, Magnesium?" Swindle asked.

Magnesium's optics drifted from his comrade to the femme across from him. He noticed the businessmech's relaxed posture, and the femme's stressed stance.

"Uhh, nothing." he replied. Swindle shrugged at Magnesium, disregarding the other mech.

Darkstrike felt a weight being taken off her shoulders. She sighed in relief. However, the look on Magnesium's faceplates suggested that he was definitely suspicious of her.

"Can you repair it?" she quickly asked.

Swindle gave her a patronizing chuckle. "Oh I don't fix things. I only replace or sell them."

The Gladiator femme frowned. "You were no help whatsoever..." she huffed.

"Don't get all defensive with me, you didn't let me finish." the arms-mech replied.

She didn't look convinced.

"I know a mech, he'll do it free of charge," his tone was low, "So long as you mention your ol' pal Swindle here."

Darkstrike gave him a hard look. "What's the catch?"

"Catch?" he feigned surprise.

"Yeah, there's always something in these little bargains," the flier pointed at him.

"Now that you mention it..."

Darkstrike frowned.

"I have a message I want you to send him." Swindle stated. Her optic-ridges furrowed at him in bemusement. He demonstrated a small package.

"The location is written on here," he pointed on the rim of the cube. Darkstrike looked at the package in a confused manner. Misinterpreting her gesture, Swindle spoke again, "You _can_ read, can't you?"

"Yes I can!" the femme immediately responded in defense. Her optics skimmed over the location.

"_Iacon_?" she exclaimed, "That's so far! Surely you know someone in Kaon..."

"No one here will do it free of charge, and judging by the quality of your armor, you don't even have enough to tidy yourself. _Not_ that you don't look like your usual dashing self,"

Her lip throbbed, reminded her that she wasn't in the most decent state.

"Besides, this bot does good quality work. He'll have the materials, heck, he'll even upgrade the visor." Swindle gave an enthusiastic gesture.

Darkstrike sighed in defeat, "I suppose,"

"One more thing," he spoke. Her helm snapped in his direction.

"If you open that package," Swindle's optics narrowed and his smile widened into a coy smirk, "Chances are you'll get killed."

* * *

Darkstrike's pede shifted at the new addition to her ankle joint. In order to exit the Gladiatorial pits, bots have to consent to a tracking device to their ankle. This also prevents the usage of alt-modes, resulting in Darkstrike having to use public methods of transportation. She had in within her systems to taste the skies, travel in half the time others could. Her alt-mode was nothing she was ashamed of. Darkstrike was no seeker, but being grounded sure as pit was humiliating.

There were many conditions a bot had to endure to leave the Pits. She was technically the owner's property, and they didn't seem prepared to have any of their money-makers walk off that easily. A Gladiator escaping wasn't unheard of.

Though it wasn't anything that happened often. Her chances of escaping were little to none. Those that were caught were usually placed in death matches so the owners could earn a little profit at the cost of their demise.

Not only was the femme restrained, but she had to pay the fee to leave the Pits, even if it was only momentarily. Soundwave better have been grateful what she was doing for him. If someone were to ask for her opinion, Darkstrike were to respond that it was a waste of time and currency, and probably not worth it. If she hadn't have been so intimidated by the mech, the chances were she wouldn't have risked all this for a trivial visor.

_Well, it's not trivial to him._

Public transportation wasn't too pleasant. Not many Gladiators traveled _out_ of Kaon, only bots with money.

The grounders around her would stare at her either because of her appearance, or the wings she desperately tried to hide. They probably thought she was an idiot, having wings but using this type of transportation. Either way, she received curious or contemptible gazes. It was just like being a newcomer in the Pits again. That feeling burned inside her spark, making her feel fury at those patronizing attitudes directed solely towards her.

The femme had almost forgotten that outside the arenas, there were bots that were even more disliking of her than the other Gladiators. If she were to threaten these brightplates in any way, they could easily send someone to arrest her. They could probably still arrest Darkstrike now, despite her not doing anything. It was her word against the high-castes. That meant that retaliating was not only dangerous, but simply not worth it.

The flier sat silently, away from other bots vise versa; they weren't interested in nearing her without a glare.

"Darkstrike?" the sudden voice alarmed her, but after joors of training, she didn't express it aloud. Her vermillion optics searched for the owner of said voice. Hers locked with a pair of bright blue.

"Orion?" she questioned in a surprised manner. That voice could have belong to many other mechs, Orion was the last mech she'd expected. The blue mech approached in a calm manner.

They hadn't interacted since that one time. She didn't think he'd remember her. Darkstrike was just one of many Gladiators, no one really important.

"May I sit next to you?" he asked. The question was nonthreatening and almost inviting. Darkstrike scrambled to make room for the mech. Right away, he positioned himself next to the femme.

Her servos tapped on her thighs as she attempted not to stare at Orion. Darkstrike didn't understand why he had chosen to sit next to her, especially with the availability of other seats. It was strange that someone of higher social class would sit next to her, rather than the other bots there. If he was doing this out of pity, Darkstrike would gladly reassure him that she didn't need any of his sympathy.

Her optics peered over to him. The mech didn't seem too fazed; Orion actually seem to be content by her presence. This made her give him a wary look. The mech hadn't said or done anything out of line, but Darkstrike continued to respond negatively.

She hadn't forgotten that interacting with mechs on a different level of social classes meant behaving differently. The femme had grown accustomed to Gladiators; they were the only mechs she considered as equals. This mech, on the other servo, stirred the strings of trust and caused her to view him dubiously.

"What are you doing here?" Orion finally spoke up. The dark-armored femme shuffled.

"You could say I'm running a few errands." she replied. He nodded.

She didn't feel too comfortable speaking to him; it had been a while since their first meeting. The femme could say she knew little to nothing about him. Darkstrike; however, had too much pride to just get up and sit elsewhere. The Gladiator wouldn't cower just because of an uncomfortable atmosphere. The flier was left with very few options: to continue and sit there awkwardly, or speak to him.

"Why are you here?" Darkstrike queried.

"I'm on my way home." Orion wearily replied. That wasn't what she had meant, but the femme wouldn't correct him.

"You live in Iacon?" Darkstrike clarified.

"Correct." he responded. She perked up at his statement. The femme had assumed he was not been from Kaon, but she never could have guessed that he lived in such a prosperous city.

"You must be proud to live there." she awkwardly mumbled.

"Indeed!" he smiled, "I could not imagine a life without my beautiful city,"

Darkstrike looked down at her servos. Interacting with others wasn't really in her coding, not that she had much practice socializing with the bots trying to kill her. Soundwave wasn't much of a talker either, so there was also that.

The femme again peered over at the mech. He noticed her right away, responding with a friendly smile. This alarmed the flier, causing her to blush and look down.

"Can I ask for a favor?" she asked.

"Of course!" Orion replied. Being the polite mech that he was, he turned to give her his undivided attention.

"I'm not too familiar with Iacon," she took out the package from her subspace, "Could you possibly help me find this location?"

Orion gently looked the message from her servos, studying the Cybertronian letters. His demeanor seemed to change once he completely processed the address.

"It's no problem if you're unavailable." she immediately interjected. He actually looked torn at agreeing to help her and rejecting her. She expected, rather hoped, he would deny.

"..."

"I will gladly assist you."

* * *

**Iacon**

After the rather long ride, Darkstrike felt elated to finally stretch her joints. Her wings made partial movement, partly stiff from being unused a long time.

The femme turned around, knowing that Orion was not too far behind. When Darkstrike caught sight of him, she noticed Orion was studying her wings. She frowned, not approving of his gazing. He noticed her attitude and rubbed the back of his helm.

"My apologies, Darkstrike. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's not often I see Cybertronians with wings, as the majority of them lie in Vos."

Darkstrike gave him a look. "I'm not a seeker." she declared. He slightly chuckled.

"I am aware. Your wings hold a different shape and are pointed in an opposite direction. The metal encasing them is also much less sensitive." Orion explained. Darkstrike opened her mouth to retort, but when she found nothing to say, she closed it. The femme immediately deflated and muttered incomprehensible words.

"Come on," he said, "Allow me to guide you through my city." She composed herself and began walking alongside him. She looked at the blue mech, tilting her helm in curiosity.

As they excited the door, Darkstrike was immediately hit by the overwhelming sensation and buzzing atmosphere. Her optics widened in wonder at the beauty that lied before them. Large bright buildings towered over them, creating a silhouette over her and Orion. A warm ray glistened over the soft luminous lights that seemingly engulfed the whole city. Bots traveled over the city, each at their own individual pace.

"Wow..." she muttered.

"It's simply amazing. I never grow tired of the sight," Orion softly hummed in nostalgia. After realizing that he had been staring for longer than necessary, he made a move to begin walking. "But enough about me. Let us get to your destination."

He swiftly linked his arm with hers and they continued walking. Darkstrike was surprised at his bold move. This action was not one would do with just anyone, yet he remained unperturbed. It was as if it was the most natural thing he could do. His larger arm was tightly attached to her as he lead her through the crowd of bombarding bots. She looked up at him, but he seemed too preoccupied in his own excitement.

Many bots would look at them, and she certainly received more than a few scrutinizing gazes pointed in her direction. Their message was simple:

She didn't belong there. In a city full of civilized bots, she was nothing more than a primitive brute in their optics.

Society in other cities viewed her in that way. Darkstrike knew because she used to be part of those type bots: the high-castes. She used to have the same ideology as the others. Cybertronians in a higher caste saw themselves holding greater importance than any of her type of people. To them, she would never be considered an equal or fit to occupy the same space as them. They believed in that stereotype that she was uneducated, submitting to them because of the nonexistent power they thought they held.

A flurry of emotions began flowing through her. There was anger at their belittlement, and a apart from that was a need to duck her own gaze from these bots. Despite her refusal to cower, the femme was beginning to feel complete out of place. There were more of them than there were of bots like her in this city. It was a degrading feeling, something she had felt before. Seeing no one like her made her feel self-conscious. Her optic-ridges furrowed and she looked down at her pedes.

Then she remembered someone was attached to her arm. She jolted when Orion began moving a little faster. He, on the other servo, didn't seem to acknowledge the bots, or if he did, he certainly didn't show it. Orion didn't seem ashamed to be seen with her, and that was the only thing that comforted her.

So maybe there was someone like her in the city. A small blush crept up to her faceplates, and for once, she found herself smiling.

"There's so much to see! If only you could see it all," Orion mused.

"I wouldn't want to bother you," she replied.

"Nonsense! A little company never does any wrong." he said.

"Are you certain? Even if it's me?" Darkstrike boldly asked.

"I'd be elated if it was you. Megatronus is a good comrade, but not an ideal companion for certain places." he replied. The small jest made her smile.

"Would you like show me then?" she tentatively asked.

"Oh certainly not all in one cycle! We also still need to reach your destination," he grinned.

The blue mech pulled her towards more streets and corners, Darkstrike _almost_ felt like she should tell him to slow down. Contrary to the beliefs of others, she was a lot more graceful on her pedes than others would give her credit for.

"It seems that your location lies ahead," Orion spoke. His arm untangled from hers.

"You're not coming?" Darkstrike said a little more disappointed than she should have been.

"I'll meet with you in a little bit. I must buy an important item; I'll let you attend to your errands for the time being." the mech responded.

Darkstrike nodded and took that as her cue to approach the building.

* * *

A large window was displayed, along with a waiting area accompanying the scenery. The area was silent and empty, causing her steps to appear louder than they were. Her optics hesitantly skimmed the room, attempting to find any traces of Cybertronian life.

"Well hello there." The voice caused her to whirl around, almost punching the mech in the process. Luckily, he evaded her with ease.

"Whoa there, no need to get violent, little missy. I haven't done anything to you, _well..._ not yet at least." his tone was more sardonic than it was playful, "The name's Lockdown. What can I do for you?" Her optics met another pair of red ones. It actually helped the tension in her spark to lessen. After being looked at with mostly blue orbs, it was a relief seeing someone more like her, physically that is.

"Not the reaction I was expecting, but I'll take what I can get." Lockdown said. His faceplate was primarily white with black markings sprouting in a pattern from his optics and chin. His shoulders-plates proudly demonstrated sharp armor, only managing to make him even more intimidating.

"I think I prefer you than the rest of this city," Darkstrike muttered. _Well, not counting Orion_. Lockdown let out a vibrant chuckle.

"Hey, if they can pay the right price, they don't bother me at all." he replied. She arched an optic-ridge.

"With that attitude, you must be acquainted with Swindle." Darkstrike deadpanned.

"Ah, so my good ol' friend Swindle sent me a gift. How kind of him." he darkly chuckled. This caused her to glare up at him.

"_No_!" she snapped, "He said you could repair a thing of mine."

"Sure, depends what you have to offer." he leaned down to her.

Darkstrike boldly met him, narrowing her optics. _Oh, I'll show you an offer_. She revealed the package from her subspace. Her claws held it, threatening to drop it, should he attempt anything threatening. His optics widened in alarm. As soon as he attempted to reach for it, Darkstrike swiftly removed it from his grasp. She placed a single digit in front of his face.

"I'll trade you for free repairs." the flier negotiated.

"Only one problem with your conditions," he looked too smug for her liking.

"And what is that?" she questioned.

"I don't repair." he stated.

"You're lying." she accused.

"'Fraid not."

Darkstrike was ready to retort with a nasty comment, before she realized that there was use for it. What a shame; she had actually had something clever to remark.

She looked up at him, trying to discern any dishonesty. All she was a smirk and a smug expression.

The femme growled and angrily turned around, stomping on the floors in the process. It was immature, she realized this, but that didn't stop her. Lockdown seemed amused at her aggravated behavior, that was, before she unsheathed her new sword in plain sight.

In one single grip, Darkstrike prepared to swing down. Lockdown's optics widened and he lunged right at her. Before the sword met the floor, Lockdown was able to detain her arms.

Darkstrike was strong, no one could deny that, but she also accepted others were stronger than her. Lockdown and her both seemed to be at neck and neck. They both struggled momentarily, each of them with different intentions. The femme wanted to cause the violence, and the mech wanted to prevent it.

Finally, after seeing that she wouldn't be accomplishing what she wanted to, Darkstrike snatched her sword back.

"Hang on, yah crazy femme!" he growled. The flier huffed at him as she put away her weapon. He gave a lengthy, frustrated sigh, a sign of his displeasure. _Good._

"How about I'll replace it and we'll call it even?" he suggested. She wasn't satisfied with a mere replacement. Darkstrike had wanted a repair, but seeing as she was running out of options, it seemed she had no choice. Besides, she had come all the way to Iacon and she refused to leave with nothing.

"Fine,"

"Alright," he sighed, "Follow me,"

They arrived at the window and Lockdown hopped through it.

"What is it you want me to replace?" Lockdown questioned. Darkstrike simply showed him the broken visor. "Ah, one of those things." The mech ducked down into his hoarder of items. Loud clanks and collisions could be heard from where she stood. The amount of noise he was producing caused her to curiously peer over the window. This proved to be unwise because when she did so, the femme almost received a painful collision from his helm.

"Here is it." he revealed a red visor accompanied with a white piece that was meant to cover the mouth section of a faceplate. Lockdown noticed the look on Darkstrike's face and immediately discarded it. "Alright then."

A few kliks later, he emerged with a visor similar to Soundwave's old one. However it was more narrow and it had a darker, shiner color. It glistened in the light, and Darkstrike could detect the technology that shined off it.

"Now this is what you call a visor," he said seemingly impressed with himself, "This automatically adjusts to all faceplate shapes and helms, and it connects to your hard drive. This technology helps collect data, and serves as another pair of optics. It has a lotta uses, not that I can remember all of them."

She analyzed it and nodded. "This will definitely do." Darkstrike placed Swindle's package on the surface, exchanging with Lockdown.

"Hm, pleasure doing business with you, little lady."

She wished she could say the same.

* * *

That wasn't a pleasant experience. It seems like this businessmech- whatever he was, was just as arrogant as Swindle was. It seemed like Darkstrike could never escape the endless cycle of deception. He had been a little more respectful than Swindle, she'd give him that. That, and at least he could deliver properly.

She was foolish to believe Swindle hadn't had some sort of catch to this. The femme should have expected this after her previous experience with _business_. Darkstrike should have known better, Soundwave surely wouldn't approve if he found out.

_Then he won't find out._

Easy enough to say, except for the fact that he could pluck any information from her pretty little processor at any time he wanted. She just hoped he wouldn't care enough to ask.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a digit tap on her shoulder. Darkstrike whirled around angrily, only to be met with her new companion Orion. Her optics widened, all previous irritation forgotten. She sighed and slightly smiled in relief.

"You startled me," she mumbled.

"Apologies, that was not my intention." he said. Darkstrike nodded.

"Did you receive what you came for?" Orion questioned.

"Of sorts," the femme said, "What is it you had to purchase, if I'm allowed to ask."

"Why don't I show you," he revealed a small silver chain, accompanied by a small icon. It was obviously an accessory, a necklace to be exact.

"It's very pretty," she said.

"Yes. It was the symbol that belonged to one of the original Primes. Megatronus Prime wore this symbol proudly, even in his last moments before he was banished."

"Say, I've seen that before..."

"Megatronus owns one like it. However, his was created in Kaon, but this was handcrafted in Iacon." Orion proudly stated.

"Oh..." she marveled at it for a few more nano-kliks.

"I wanted you to have it." he suddenly said.

"_Me_?" Darkstrike was very shocked as to why he would give such an object to her.

"Unfortunately, we must depart, so I'll have to give you a tour of Iacon another time," he genuinely seemed disappointed.

"Yes I understand, but you know this was unnecessary." Darkstrike remarked.

"It is a gift so that you remember this visit to Iacon. I found your presence a surprise, nonetheless quite enjoyable." it had been a while since such kind words had been spoken directly at her. She smiled up at him, causing him to grin.

"Allow me to escort you to your flight back to Kaon?" he suggested. Darkstrike knew very well that she was well capable of finding her way back to the horrid public transportation, but she didn't reject his offer. Their arms linked once more, and they left their current scenery.

* * *

**Kaon: _Gladiator Pits_**

The door gracefully swished open as soon as she typed in the correct symbols. Darkstrike poked her helm in from the doorway.

The flier noticed that the lights were dimmed. She hesitantly entered the room. A powerful amount of strength quickly pulled her in, causing the door to shut behind her. The femme yelped at the abrupt force, as it restrained most of her movements. Darkstrike optics enhanced and averted towards the metal body pressing against her. Soundwave's optics were narrowed warily, but he reluctantly released her. The lights suddenly flashed completely on, making her flinch and adjust her optics.

"Is the visor repaired?" the question hung in the air before she was able to process it.

"Yes," Darkstrike nodded. He acknowledged her, but didn't respond.

The femme suddenly felt burning curiosity in regards to his cautious behavior. "What was the purpose of this?"

"I do not trust easily," he muttered in his thick accent.

"You seemed to be hiding, have you left your room at all?" Darkstrike asked.

"My aesthetic is not the business of others."

She looked away. "Why is it that you hide it?"

Soundwave acknowledged her with a quick, yet threatening glance. "My reasoning does not concern you,"

Darkstrike indignantly blushed and crossed her arms tightly against herself. She grumbled to herself, knowing full well that Soundwave would pick up what she said.

The mech disregarded her own boundaries and intruded into her subspace. The femme shifted and froze until Soundwave retreived what he was looking for. The mech looked at the visor. Darkstrike was unable to discern any of his emotions; She wasn't sure if he was satisfied or not.

He must have liked it, otherwise he would have said something. The mech set it on his work space.

The dark-armored femme huffed and looked down at her pedes. "You're welcome," she mumbled.

Soundwave impassively regarded her again. "Darkstrike was the reason for the repairs; Gratitude is undeserved."

"Yes, well you were the one who attacked me first," she replied.

"The visor was not of importance in battle."

"Battle was unnecessary in the first place." she remarked. The Gladiator stared at the femme as he neared her. His whole figure easily loomed over her, causing Darkstrike to recoil.

"Darkstrike's curiosity for battle is unasked for." he began, "Battle is to remind Darkstrike of inferiority. Soundwave: always superior."

Darkstrike looked at him with disbelief. He gently grabbed her chin to force her to look up to him despite the femme wanting to pull away. The mech sat down on his berth, bringing Darkstrike down with him. She yelped as she was pulled to his lap. The femme squirmed and Soundwave seemed to let her, it wasn't as if his grip wouldn't loosen up anytime soon. She let out an angry vent when she realized this.

Soundwave looked straight into her optics, the intensity of those crimson orbs caused her to want to look away. Nevertheless, she wouldn't, not if she wanted to continue living. Looking away meant she submitted, and her pride was much too big for that.

Her processor's firewalls protected as much as they could, especially from any unwanted visitors. Despite how much she wanted to hide her cycle from him, Soundwave seemed to suspect something, though shouldn't have mattered to him; it was none of his business.

The mech had gotten his visor, that was all that mattered.

How she got it or who she interacted with, was irrelevant. Orion had been very polite, but it wasn't anymore than that. Sure, he was charming, but that was it.

Either way, the femme believed she could interact with whomever, without anyone's permission, even Soundwave's.

Judging by the way Soundwave currently held her, she felt as if he wouldn't approve of Orion, despite it being only being innocent interaction between them. Darkstrike didn't know why it suddenly bothered him; he never cared about who she interacted with.

Whatever was going on between her and the Gladiator, wasn't just a simple acquaintanceship.

Soundwave snaked his way into her mind, knowing which angles to plunge through. His servos slowly slid up her backstruts, his other on her abdomen.

That was when he noticed it.

_Slag_.

The purple necklace that adorned her chest, certainly hadn't gotten unnoticed. Soundwave suddenly stopped. His optics were then pointed towards another direction. She saw no emotion of his faceplates. His long sharp fingers gently grasped the purple ends of the accessory. The Gladiator was able to plunge through her mind, despite all her efforts. She tightly shut her optics. Darkstrike was sure he had invaded her mind before, but this time she could _feel_ him.

"Stop!" she commanded.

"Who is he?" Soundwave monotonously asked. He was calm and attentive; the complete opposite of her.

"I-I... It doesn't matter..." the femme stuttered.

She suddenly shivered when he regarded with a cold attitude.

"Orion..." she muttered. The flier could feel his fingers tighten. If she hadn't been sitting on his lap, she would've never felt the unnoticeable way he slowly, possessively, pulled her closer to himself. The Gladiator's face buried itself onto her neck. His denta bit her cables roughly, leaving various bites. Darkstrike furiously blushed when she realized that he was marking her, and the femme flushed even more when she realized that a part of her _liked_ it.

He didn't say anything else. A contrast to his harsh actions, he gave her backstruts a gentle stroke, provoking a shiver through her body. Unlike Soundwave, Darkstrike was not able to mask her emotions. _Let me bite you, then we'll find out who's dominant here. _

The flier hadn't attempted conceal the remark.

The mech's fingers dig into her back, and one wrong move could mean the difference between walking off to her room or to the medic. He lowered his helm to her audios, provoking another shiver. "Remember: Darkstrike is _mine_," his words were possessive. This didn't seem like the type of declarations he would say to just anybot.

He stood up, lightly pushing her off his lap.

"Darkstrike." he said her designation clearly. Said femme turned to him. Soundwave's optics narrowed slightly.

"Do not interact with him again."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: You all are extremely wonderful! Thank you for all your wonderful compliments, and honestly, if there is really something you want me to respond on, go ahead and PM me, even if it's just to say hi, chances are I'll respond. (However, I do read all of my reviews!) **

**A lot of you caught my G1 reference ;) I was very happy about that. Some of you have also picked up on the foreshadowing in regards to their relationship and I applaud you. Nevertheless, I can't spoil anything as of now ;)**

**Soundwave was difficult for me to write this chapter. I may have altered a few things in order for dialogue to carry out a bit smoother, hopefully you all enjoy. **

* * *

**Questions:**

_**Do you have an updating system?**_

**I plan to (usually) update no longer than two weeks. **

_**Did you use TFA Lockdown?**_

**Yes I did. **

_**Is Darkstrike going to Listen?**_

**We shall see.**

**_How would Darkstrike's wings resemble?_ **

**She would resemble the character X-Gunner from the comics, or even TFA Blitzwing's wings. **

_**Will Darkstrike conceive a sparkling?**_

**I debated whether I should respond to this in fear that I would reveal too much of what I have planned in the story. However, the answer is no. I believe that a sparkling would ruin the mood and tension I have build up these last few chapters. There is too much I want to do, too much I want to explore. I don't want to tie down the characters just yet with a sparkling, and I apologize to those who wanted that result.**

* * *

**Indiscreet: _having, showing, or proceeding from too great a readiness to reveal things that should remain secret or private_**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

There were plenty of times where she had needed to follow orders. Darkstrike had never been in the position where she never received commands and it seemed she was destined to remain like that.

In her previous caste, it had been the officials and her creators giving her orders, in this caste, it was the owners, anyone wealthier than her, and of course Soundwave. Darkstrike always had open audios to the mech's suggestions, and even insults. This was because it often helped motivate her and it gave her ambition.

_This_, however, was something different. Soundwave never restricted whom she decided to affiliate herself with. While he didn't approve of some the mechs, he never outright impeded her from seeing them. It was more confounding than Darkstrike would have liked. The manner in which he had stated it bewildered, her more than anything. His voice had been cold, in it's monotone. She could sense the underlying threat under his tone. It was subtle, just like the rest of his demeanor.

The femme knew that he had invaded her mind, but she wasn't sure what information he had received. She wasn't certain whether he knew that it was a high-caste she had interacted with. All she knew what that he didn't seem to like it. This information really shouldn't have surprised her. Soundwave had expressed dissatisfaction many times, especially when it came to her.

_What are his motives though? What does this mean?_ Did Soundwave think their relationship was more than interface, or purely fragging? She couldn't depict whether it was jealousy or possessiveness that fueled him. _Or is it both? _Perhaps it was neither.

The metal of her fist dented further once it collided, the result of the training exercise she was performing. The force she used caused the obstacle to fly backward, creating a swift breeze. When it returned, Darkstrike grew even more angry and punched it with more vigor than before. She preferred this than remembering the paralyzing feeling Soundwave caused when he held her against him.

The flier stopped for a moment to feel her the marks on the cables of her neck. Not long ago, his denta had been there, along with that talented glossa of his. A radiant blush appeared on her faceplates.

A growl escaped her lips. She continued her aggressive training exercises. It took every ounce or self-restraint to stop her violent actions. The femme realized that she could very well break the obstacle, and it would come out of her Gladiator income. She earned little as it is.

Her frame went rigid and she caught the obstacle before it crashed into her. The flier sighed, her expression dimming as well.

It wasn't wise using her limited energy in training. She would have to battle very soon, and energon cubes weren't abundant as they once were. They didn't give much there, and own personal stash was running dry. The low-grade energon was absolutely abhorrent, _disgusting_. Thinking of the taste could have made her purge her tanks right there, but Darkstrike wouldn't risk it because of the empty tank she would have afterward.

The dark-armored femme did not look her best either. She felt unappealing with oil and dried up energon staining the lighter parts of her dented armor. Unbuffed scars adorned her back and wings, not to mention the unattractive scratches all over her frame. Darkstrike was filthy, reeking of the Pits.

Nonetheless, this didn't bother some of the mechs; they still looked in her direction. They were so desperate for a femme's touch, even something like her would suffice. Darkstrike sneered at the thought.

It was only a matter of time before she'd have to get clean, or as clean as the Pits allowed. The new policy stated that all Gladiators had to pay for each klik they used the showers for. Although she didn't want to spend any coins, Darkstrike was beginning to repulse herself. Might as well spend them on something she actually needed.

There weren't separate places where femmes and mechs could bathe. Given that she was the only femme there, it was only natural there would only be one showering area. However, even if there were more femmes, Darkstrike knew that the owners wouldn't bother with privacies; every Gladiator was the same slag after all.

Once she entered the showering rooms, Darkstrike noticed that there two were mechs loitering in the area. The exchanged a few words, but stood silent once they noticed her. Her optics narrowed in warning, and they seemed to understand the message.

_Do not touch me. _

They spoke to one another again, but their optics hadn't left her direction. Darkstrike couldn't do anything about it, not without starting a commotion, and Lanyard had already warned her the consequences of doing that.

Luckily, there were a few walls that separated each bot so that they could bathe in _some_ privacy; there were walls, not doors. The femme had her own small space, but bots could still see her from behind. She might have been disgusting, but Darkstrike wasn't sure she wanted to remove her armor and risk exposing vulnerable areas. That meant that her back would be turned to the mechs, a stupid mistake only a novice would make.

Her helm turned in their direction. The mechs immediately noticed her. Darkstrike's optics glared fire in their direction.

"Get out." she snapped. There was no trace of hesitation in her words. The mechs were not so convinced. They opened their mouths to speak. Darkstrike was all too familiar with their egotistical comments and prideful behavior. Giving a weary sigh, she effortlessly lifted a sword in their direction.

"_Get out_." her command had now turned into a threat. Both mechs grumbled and wasted no time before disappearing from her sights. Darkstrike almost smiled at her accomplishment.

She inserted the coins, praying the thing would work. The faulty thing sometimes refused to function, only serving to take her coins. Luckily enough, oil began to slide onto her aching frame.

Darkstrike closed her optics and let the oil drench her armor. Realizing she had limited time, her sore servos began removing her armor, piece by piece. The task proved to be very difficult. The Gladiator hadn't even finished taking half of it off before she started to feel the weight of her wounds. Her optics drifted down to her servos, and she noticed the bleeding energon on them. The joints in her claws were stiff, and the energon bled from her excess training. Her servos began trembling at the sudden pain. The femme could hardly move them without the pain overriding her sensors.

Her helm leaned on the wall, as her optics closed to suppress the pain.

Too engulfed in herself, Darkstrike had realized too late that someone was grabbing her arm. Her reflexes caused her to jolt away. She angrily turned around.

"I told you to—" the words died on her glossa. Her optics owlishly blinked at the new presence.

Soundwave had caused her to back up, causing the oil to drench him. He didn't seem too fazed. The mech grabbed her arm once more. His servo took ahold of hers as he observed the bleeding. Darkstrike hissed in discomfort when he applied pressure to it. He noticeably shook his head in disapproval. Darkstrike snatched back her servo in an offended manner.

"What are you doing here?" she rudely asked.

"You require assistance," he stated unemotionally.

"No I don't." she replied too quickly. Not for the first time, Soundwave ignored her. Her servos made their way to her armor, stripping her with ease. "Stop, I can do this myself." Darkstrike insisted.

"Cease actions. Now." he stated. The femme gave a stubborn growl. Soundwave looked at her, flashing her a silent warning. Once the top half armor was unfastened, Soundwave kneeled. A light blue blush sprouted on her faceplate. His diligent fingers worked their way to her thighs.

"S-Soundwave, I can do that myself." she said. Despite her experience with him, Darkstrike was still young. A touch like that could easily make her shy away. Soundwave knew this too, it was probably why he did it. The mech's slim fingers easily worked their way through the claps. His fingers intimately caressed her inner thighs once they were rid of the armor. She was reminded of the first time he had healed her in the same regions.

Her spark began to ache again, but Darkstrike was not about to voice what exactly her spark wanted. The femme stubbornly turned away, attempting to cool her frame down. The running showers assisted in calming herself.

Soundwave stood up, pulling her frame directly under the oil showers. His servos expertly danced across her frame, successfully washing away her filth. Darkstrike gave him credit for being gentle. Servos soothingly rubbed on her protoform. He seemed to know which places to reach in, giving her an aching relief in her frame. Darkstrike closed her optics, relishing in those damn good servos of his. He was mindful of her wings, as if testing how sensitive they were.

When she gave no reaction, he treated her wings as just another regular part of her frame. The Gladiator kneaded, knowing that Darkstrike was taking great pleasure from it. She involuntarily leaned into his touch. The femme was so filthy, and the thought of him washing away a dirty femme like her, caused her to grow warm again. A loud yelp escaped her lips when he reached a sensitive area. Her optics snapped open and Darkstrike flushed.

Soundwave stopped for a moment before continuing. He only stopped when the oil stopped flowing. Residue oil dripped off her, but it would dry in a few moments.

She turned around to face Soundwave, and saw that he also had oil dripping off him. He seemed relatively clean as well. She watched as the shining droplets slid off the crevices his powerful frame. A soft light shone towards his visor, causing a reflection on her end. His biolights were unnoticeable before, but in their current lighting they shone a vibrant violet.

He was magnificent.

Soundwave used his fingers to tilt her chin up to him.

"Darkstrike's infatuation is obliged," he replied. It sounded almost like he was mocking her. He must have heard her internal comment. A visible blush made its way to her faceplates.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," she snapped. The flier might as well say anything she thought. There was no point in being secretive. Her optics looked at his visor. Primus-damn Soundwave to the Pits of Unicron. Damn him and everything associated with him.

But _oh_, she would kiss him with a passion if that visor was off.

The Gladiator grabbed her waist and pushed their frame's together. His visor retracted into his helm, an action he hadn't been able to do before. There was a crazed aroma in the atmosphere, fueling them both. With synchronized movements, their lips crashed together in haste. Darkstrike didn't let surprise slow her down. She immediately leaned forward to follow his movements. The femme knew how scandalous this was: making out with Soundwave in a public place; anyone could walk in on them. The risk made the taste of his lips alluringly poisonous.

It took several kliks before they felt it was necessary to part. Her cooling fans had turned on, much to her embarrassment.

"You weren't supposed to hear that either." she glared at him.

* * *

After Soundwave so graciously reattached her armor, she was taken to his chambers so that he could repair her servos. Again, he was forced to play medic with her.

He held her hand firmly so that she didn't move. Soundwave studied her claws and joints carefully, eventually spotting the source of the pain. The mech seemed to finish the task without any struggle. He didn't hesitate, if there were any mistakes on his part, Darkstrike wasn't sure she would have been able to tell.

"Soundwave..." she said his name aloud. He didn't respond verbally nor physically. This didn't deter Darkstrike; she was used to it by now.

She spoke again, "You could have repaired the visor yourself. I know—_we_ both know you could have easily done it,"

He responded sooner than she thought he would.

"Conclusion: I did not fracture the mask." he said, refraining from looking up. He wrapped her servos tightly so that the energon would stop leaking. It wasn't the work of a prestigious medic; nonetheless, Darkstrike was immensely grateful. Soundwave wasn't exactly a doctor, but he knew how to make due of what he had. The Gladiator was resourceful, and he had certainly helped her before with his limited materials.

"Query: How did Darkstrike obtain a suitable substitute?" he questioned. She perked up, not anticipating his question. It surprised her for multiple reasons. Soundwave generally wasn't open for trivial conversation; all that mattered was that she got the job done, uncaring how she got it done. He wasn't the curious type, that much she knew. It also didn't make sense when he could have just easily invaded her mind to pry out the information.

_Well, I'm not complaining._

She preferred being asked than feeling his powerful mind engulf hers like last time. Why that time he had been so interested in knowing who she interacted with, she did not know.

"I had to go to Swindle first," Soundwave raised his helm slightly, but immediately returned to his task. Darkstrike realized that there was probably some type of conflict between the bots; however, she didn't persist. Being inquisitive may come off as being invasive.

"He was no help. He recommended that I travel to an acquaintance of his, free of charge." she explained. While he gave no sign that he was actually listening, Darkstrike continued. She didn't mind, as long as she had someone around to make up for her lack of company.

_He_ had been the one to initiate conversation, after all. Unless he directly silenced her, her words would continue to leave her vocal transmitters.

"I went to Iacon to find this friend of his. His name was Lockdown, and while I couldn't get him to replace your damaged visor, I did get you a new one. It was a long journey, especially because of my lack of flight but-"

"Lockdown?" he questioned.

"Yes, I believe that was his designation. He was peculiar. The mech had a white faceplate, red optics, strange for someone in Iacon, and black markings."

There was a moment of silence.

"Do you know him...?" Darkstrike asked.

"Negative," he said, "Any contact with Lockdown is nonexistent."

"However, you recognize him." she pried. While his silence answered her question, it didn't exactly give her much information on Soundwave's point of view.

"I wonder how Swindle and Lockdown even know each other." she thought aloud.

Soundwave made as though he scoffed, "Both indulge in greed. Swindle: selfish, as is Lockdown."

"Then you do know him." the femme stated.

"Lockdown is a bounty hunter."

The femme tensed up. "I didn't know bounty hunters still existed..."

"Assassins remain a commodity on Cybertron. Lockdown is one of many." he said, "Femme is naïve to the existence past the boundaries of propaganda."

"The normal thing bots do, is listen to what officials in your caste tell you." she defended.

"Darkstrike: merely believes the persuasion and lies of a rich caste," Soundwave rephrased.

The flier blushed. "No! I, unlike other closed minded Cybertronians, questioned my caste at any opportune moment. However, officials don't exactly react well to disloyal bots."

"Cybertronians: punished," he inferred.

"Their idea of punishment was closing me off from the caste. Supposedly, they didn't believe in violence, so they settled for passive aggressiveness. My creators were paid a good amount of currency to keep me quiet. They attempted to convince me that nothing outside of my caste was different,"

"Result: information given was easily believed." the mech replied.

"No," she blurted. She cleared her vocal transmitter. "I always suspected something, but without any logical proof, many believed I was insane."

"Cause of Darkstrike's caste abandonment: Unable to comply to corrupt officials." he cunningly inferred.

Her optics widened in haste. The Gladiator's logical inference seemed to affect the femme more than he would have thought. It was easy enough, having the femme open up to him. Soundwave was always interested in information that could serve to be useful in the future.

"I... don't feel comfortable talking about this," she looked away. Thick tension hung in the atmosphere. She knew Soundwave was looking at her because of the way his helm was positioned.

"Conclusion: Femme is scared." he said.

"I'm scared of many things, but that isn't one of them," she replied. Her bold attitude would only stretch so far. "I-I'm a Gladiator now, and what I am now is better than whatever I was before."

Soundwave stood up, his long figure creating a shadow over her. "Gladiators kill for entertainment. Gladiators: sacrifice others because of greed. Femme's reasoning: suggests violence is acceptable."

"Well... bluntly speaking, yes. Violence is acceptable because it's just as natural. We can't stop it." Darkstrike stood up as well, however, Soundwave was taller than her. The femme had to incline her helm to look directly at him.

"Gladiators are not honorable. Do not attempt to glorify it." Soundwave stated. He was testing her, seeing how she would respond. The mech wanted to know she no longer sided with the other pretentious castes.

"High castes are the one's who are glorifying themselves. At least you don't attempt to make yourself look like a hero—" she was cut off by his resonant Kaon accent. Soundwave grabbed both sides of her arms and pulled her closer to himself.

"No Gladiator is a hero, including Darkstrike." His visor was threateningly close to her face. Her optics narrowed up at him. The mech noticed the color in her optics enhance. Soundwave intentionally challenged her, raising her nerves. Only when she was truly irked would she be honest. He threw the bait, and the femme unknowingly took it.

"That is precisely my point. You're brilliant, Soundwave, and contrary to what you believe, I'm not stupid," she retorted.

"Negative," he said, "Femme is unmindful. Information is to be hidden. Discretion: always advised."

"Why? Why do I have to be silent while others are able to voice their opinions so freely?" she asked.

"Result: your enemy gains advantage." the Gladiator stated.

"Is that why you're always so quiet? You don't want to share information, because you don't want your enemy to have the advantage." she dared to say. The only indication that he had heard her, was the tightening of his servos.

He blandly ignored her question. "Soundwave will listen to femme's opinions. Suggestion: Do not confide with _others_."

"You want me to trust in you, and I do," she added, "But you expect me to believe you'll do the same? You have no trust in me."

"You have no discretion." the larger mech finally released her.

"I—" she tried to speak as he was turning away.

"Your reputation is not promising."

At that moment Darkstrike realized he was referring not only to her moments in Kaon. She realized her mistake in not concealing her thoughts. Soundwave had said "reputation", because of her times speaking out in Altihex as well.

* * *

His backstrusts were forced into a straight posture, giving him a prideful stance. His powerful pedesteps were enough to alarm any nearby Cybertronian. His aura seemed to radiate with strength. This powerful figure gave others the idea that whether regarding other Gladiators or even the wealthy owners, he refused to cower away.

Megatronus wouldn't say he was arrogant, but confidence wasn't something he lacked. Helm up high and shoulder plates vertical, his mere appearance was enough to frighten lesser bots, despite if they knew who he was or not.

Megatronus craved the respect and recognition.

He was growing increasingly popular, and those Gladiators of lesser ranking were prepared to follow someone with cause like his. The top-ranking Gladiator knew he had to take advantage of this now, or the opportunity would be wasted. He would be the ignition to something grand. He needed to take action now, the silver mech was tired of waiting. The Gladiators were already close to snapping, tensions were already thick as it is. They just needed another push; Megatronus would be that push.

The cycle would be put to good use once Orion and him discussed about whether or not the time was right for taking action. Megatronus was growing weary of reverting to peaceful methods. Primus knows that the tactic wouldn't last for long before they were shunned away by the high-castes; they'd simply brush them off. Perhaps today was the cycle where the smaller mech would come to the realization that peace only got them so far.

His blue optics caught sight of said mech. While Orion had already noticed Megatronus, he continued to search for something, no, _someone_ else.

"Have you lost something?" Megatronus questioned, raising an optic-ridge. His placed his arms behind his back in a coy manner.

"Ah, no, not exactly." Orion replied. The high-caste mech decided to stop, seeing Megatronus was now staring at him.

"Then what is it you seek?" the Gladiator asked. Orion scuffled for a moment. He hesitated before speaking.

"It's not of importance," was his final reply.

"Hmm," Megatronus hummed, clearly unconvinced, "It's not like you to be secretive. In fact, I'd say you're like an open datapad,"

The Gladiator was obviously poking at his job as a clerk. Orion wasn't as amused at the jest as Megatronus was. "I was looking for someone." he replied.

"Really?" the silver mech asked nonchalantly, "It wouldn't happen to be that little femmebot you're looking for, could it?"

His only conclusion was that he was referring to Darkstrike. Orion attempted to hide his surprise. "How did you know?"

"It was a _fortuitous_ guess." the silver mech responded. To elaborate on his response, he revealed a shiny purple accessory from his subspace. It shone when reflected onto the light.

"How did you obtain that?" the clerk asked, clearly mystified by the familiar necklace. His optics squinted, unsure whether it was actually the one he had given to Darkstrike.

"I found it in the showers. I mistook it for my own, but only a precise optic can recognize the differences of what was crafted in Iacon rather than Kaon," the Gladiator replied.

"What made you believe it was hers?" the blue mech questioned.

"I previously saw her exit the showers," Megatronus carelessly let it hang from his servos.

"How did you know I gave it to her?" Orion was skeptical.

"Ah, you underestimate my intelligence, Orion Pax. I'm a Gladiator, not stupid," Megatronus stated, rolling his optics.

"Believe you, me, Megatronus. I do not underestimate anybot." the clerk reassured.

Megatronus rolled his blue optics once more. "Then do not underestimate her. Believe _me_ when I tell you that femme is not friendly territory."

The silver Gladiator had his suspicions about that femme and his rival, and ally, Soundwave. That femme had been the only leverage Megatronus could find in the enigmatic mech. Soundwave wouldn't tell him anything; it seemed he was a lot smarter than to do that.

Megatronus had wanted Soundwave in his favor, but that proved to be difficult when Soundwave possessed as much cunning as he did. He couldn't trust a mech that was able to match him in many ways.

It was true, after seeing the other mech's prowess, Megatronus was quick to realize the Soundwave was no ordinary mech. Soundwave could be very advantageous on his side, but it also seemed that the quiet mech was no fool. The second-ranking Gladiator knew more things than he care to let on. A mech with underlying intelligence was a dangerous mech. For that, Megatronus had to remember why he had labeled Soundwave as his rival.

_If_ the femme affiliated herself with that mech, it meant his comrade Orion was treading on thin ice.

"I do not know what you are implying Megatronus," the clerk attempted to reach your necklace. Before he was able to fully grasp it, the taller mech snatched it back.

"Perhaps she isn't your best interest." he said. Orion persisted.

"Trust in me, Megatronus like I trust in you. You suggestion is obliged, but I am aware of what I am doing." he assured.

"Do what you wish; I certainly won't stop you," he handed him the purple shiny symbol, "Here, it seems fit you give it to her."

Orion gently took it from his grasp.

Megatronus wouldn't supplicate; Orion could do what he liked. The silver Gladiator wouldn't interfere with personal matters, more so with ones that didn't pertain to himself. It wasn't as if the information he knew was certain; the silver mech didn't know the relations Soundwave had. All he had were unprovable suspicions.

For the moment, the large Gladiator wouldn't reveal Soundwave's identity, he was sure Orion would find out soon enough.

Though that was hardy his priority at the moment.

"Now that we've settled that, are you ready to hear my proposal?"

* * *

She sat outside of the thick arena walls, her aft plastered on the filth of the ground. That's all she could do as she realized one thing:

What Soundwave said was true, despite her refusal at accepting it. The femme had committed more than a few mistakes when she lived in Altihex. Her reputation for having discretion was little to none. If she had an strong opinion or thought, her first initiative was to voice it. That was probably why Soundwave could infer so much about her.

The was probably also why Soundwave knew more about her, than she did about him.

Darkstrike made the mistake of revealing that she trusted him, that _she_ trusted one of the most feared Gladiators in the notorious Pits of Kaon. That was personal information he didn't need to hear. He already had many advantages over her, no need to add onto the list.

Nevertheless, she didn't take back what she had said. It might seem bewildering to other bots, but through her perspective, it made perfect sense why she would trust him.

The mech had been given many opportunities where he could end her life. Many times it seemed like he would. However, Soundwave proved to have saved her spark more times than he threatened to kill it. He willingly helped her with his experience, willingly healed her, willingly _believed_ in her. It sounded ridiculously corny, making Darkstrike scoff at her own thoughts.

She pondered on a question: What was Soundwave to her? The femme wasn't an expert on relationships, but she figured that this wasn't how things were supposed to play out. She wasn't sure that _love_ was possible considering the circumstance they were in. Soundwave just didn't seem like a mech that loved or cared for those types of emotions. He had certainly aided her, and expressed some type of loyalty towards their strange attachment. The femme wasn't sure towards what extent that loyalty went.

The way he kissed her never seemed to be of a lovers touch. It was invigorating, yes, passionate, very, and extremely possessive. Was that his form of showing affection? Perhaps he was not showing affection, but rather domination. He was a Gladiator, it would make sense. These were all valid possibilities. Unlike him, Darkstrike wasn't able to read his mind and figure out for herself.

Soundwave didn't like weaknesses, this was probably considered one; she was probably considered one. His life consisted of sheer force and precision. She should have known right away what she was involving herself in. Darkstrike knew that interfacing would change the dynamic of their relationship. However, she should have known better than to expect something else. These were very trivial things to ponder about. The moment her optics opened that morning from their night together, her expectations should have remained the same.

Long ago, she would have expected him to snuff her spark when given the chance. Darkstrike was almost prepared for him to do it, without any remorse whatsoever. Now, she wasn't sure that the same servos that had healed her, bathed her even, could have the capacity to murder her.

Maybe that's what she feared: that despite all their encounters and knowledge of each other, Soundwave wouldn't hesitate to kill her in a klik. _Can it really be possible, though?_

_Why not? He's killed many times before, he made that very clear today. He's stained himself with even more energon than me_. _He's fought more. He's experienced brutal reality. He probably recognizes it like another face in the crowd._

_..._

_Am I just another face in the crowd he looks at? _

Darkstrike _should_ be glad if that was the case, but she wasn't. If that's really what he thought of her, could she really trust him? It was a bit hypocritical that he expected her to tell him things, but he would reveal nothing. How coincidental that he didn't want her to _confide in anyone_. The femme had said this before; she was _not_ stupid. If this was Soundwave's game, then she refused to participate in it.

She's made it this far, she didn't need his help anymore. Darkstrike was perfectly fine on handling herself from now on.

Immediately, her spark rejected the idea. Darkstrike hadn't voiced anything aloud, but she felt as though she had to take it back. The flier couldn't believe her own audacity. Panic and sadness began to numb her system as the impact of her words hit. It was almost more intense than the physical pain she felt on her servos. The thought of being alone frightened her more than anything else.

Before she could even process her next thought, her audios perked up at the source of noise. Her helm turned, and she prepared to stand up.

The pedesteps slowed when she sensed the bot was close.

"Who's there?" she demanded.

The Cybertronian stopped. The femme had then initially believed that the bot had gone away, but her suspicions proved to be wrong when the steps quickened.

Before she stood up to confront the bot, a mech appeared out of the same passageway she had come out of. The flier's optic ridges furrowed in bemusement.

"Orion?" she mused. He looked at her and smiled. His expression caused her to look at her pedes; no one seemed that genuinely happy to see her.

"I've finally found you," he stated. Her helm tilted in confusion.

"You were looking for me?" she asked.

"Is it alright if I sit next to you?" he asked. It almost touched her how unnecessarily polite he was. Almost.

"You don't have to sit on this ground, let me—" she prepared to stand.

"Nonsense. If you sit there, I'll do likewise." his frame positioned itself next to hers: on the ground, leaning against the wall. It took him a while to adjust and once he did, it seemed like he was very uncomfortable.

"Are you... alright?" Darkstrike asked, raising an optic ridge.

"Yes," he paused, "I just need a little more time to adjust." Orion shuffled around even more. He settled for an awkward position.

"Why were looking for me?" she asked. His attention averted from the uncomfortable seat, to her. Unable to contain himself, he reached for his subspace.

"I believe you lost this." the blue mech showed her the purple necklace. Her optics widened, her servos reaching it immediately.

"How did you find this?" she asked. Her optics looked at him widely.

"I'd rather not say," he said sheepishly.

The flier didn't like mysteries, but she didn't further pester him. As long as she had the necklace back. Darkstrike simply nodded, fastening it tightly around her neck.

"Thank you for giving it to me for a second time." the dark-armored femme spoke.

"It was no burden, in fact it was good that you lost it," Orion replied.

She arched an optic-ridge, "How so?"

"I needed to confirm that you were still willing to take a tour of Iacon with me." Orion said. Darkstrike hesitated; Soundwave had given her direct orders about interacting with him. _But I refuse to play his game. _

"Yes, though I'd suggest a more convenient cycle," the femme replied.

"Of course." he stated. She nodded at him.

For a few kliks Darkstrike remained quiet, not really in the mood for chatter. She would have ungracefully told anyone else to frag off, but Orion didn't deserve such treatment. Not yet, at least.

"What exactly are you doing here?" Orion asked. That mech was a persistent one.

"Admiring the view," she pointed. Darkstrike motioned towards the dull and crude sight that was Kaon.

"The sight?" he asked. Orion regarded her with uncertainty.

Her optics narrowed, "It's not up to Iacon's standards, but it's my home."

"I apologize, Darkstrike. There are many forms of beauty only some bots understand. Perhaps I do not see it, but you see it clearer than I ever will."

The sincere answer startled her, making her regret her rude comment. It was obvious that his intentions were good, she just hadn't been expecting that. Darkstrike looked down at her bandaged servos to avoid looking straight at him.

"Is something troubling you?" he asked. He turned his helm to peer at her.

"No."

Orion gave her a look. "Somehow, I don't think that's true."

"Why do you care about the troubles of an insignificant Gladiator?" she couldn't help her wariness, it was embedded deep in her coding. _Figures, I trust a deadly Gladiator more than a friendly high-caste_ _mech_.

"Everyone should care about the pain of others" he placed a servo on her sharp shoulder plates. Darkstrike's optics widened, and she couldn't help blushing, either in embarrassment or something else.

"Darkstrike," he carefully began, "Are you alright?"

The femme looked at him but didn't respond. She then looked down, as if lack of optic-contact would cause him to forget the question he had asked.

"I don't know what to do," she sighed in an exasperated manner, throwing her arms up in the air. The action slightly started Orion. Seeing as she was finally talking, he wasted no time in responding.

"What is it?" he questioned.

Darkstrike wasn't too encouraged to proceed. Seeing her dubious expression, Orion spoke again. "I am no Gladiator, but I am no stranger when it comes to problems." he said.

"It's hard." she plainly stated.

"You're frustrated," he inferred.

"Of course I'm frustrated!" she exclaimed, "Who wouldn't be? Nobody wants to live like this—like a Gladiator!"

"Then it is your caste that bothers you." he said.

"I—" she paused and looked away, "You probably don't want to be bothered by idiotic claims..."

"I want to hear your opinions. I will listen, because like everyone else, you have a voice to speak about what you believe in." the blue mech gave her an encouraging smile.

_Soundwave will listen to femme's opinions. Suggestion: Do not confide with others. _

"You might not agree with what I say," Darkstrike skeptically replied.

"That is true, but I can't change your opinion. You are rightfully entitled to it." he replied. The flier waited to see if there was any trace of dishonesty, and when she found none, she proceeded.

"This is what I believe," the Gladiator began, "Our system is nothing more than an idiocracy."

Orion raised his optic ridges at her blunt language.

"The owners, the officials, the senators, anyone with wealth, all of them are connected in the pyramid of power. It's all one circle, a convoluted process, it's all becoming a game,"

"A game?" the clerk asked.

"Yes, a game. A game full of greed and wealth. And who do you think is winning?" she asked. It was simple explaining this to Orion, considering he seemed to have knowledge.

"The same ones running the game." he replied. His response caused her to smile at his perceptiveness.

"Exactly."

"That is a clever metaphor you chose to use." the high-caste mech said. Orion opened to mouth to say something but the Gladiator cut him off.

"What are your thoughts?" she asked, becoming genuinely interested in the discussion.

He made a face. "Truth be told, I do not believe in injustices either. I know that each city is riddled with corrupt Cybertronians, and believe me, if I could, I would change it.

"I cannot do it, not alone at least. However, Megatronus and I work hard to achieve our goal of a free Cybertron. I may not be from this caste, but I am aware of these hardships you face. I can understand. I can try. If _you_ feel this strong, it means you too feel the urge to take action."

She positioned herself to fully look at him.

"If this is what has been troubling you, then I have your solution," he said. Her vermillion optics widened, "Make others realize that your situation is unjustifiable."

Darkstrike leaned forward, "How do you want me to do that?"

"Join us, Darkstrike. Megatronus once said, we are prisoners in our caste, but we don't have to be willing prisoners." Orion extended his servo. Darkstrike hesitated before taking it with hers.

"Join you?" the flier questioned.

"Yes. Join us to stand against the evil of Cybertron." Orion stated it with such confidence, it was almost as if he was created to say those words.

"I'm not sure..." her optics drifted away.

"A moment ago, your words seemed very sure." his voice didn't change it's gentle tone. There were many sudden thoughts that overwhelmed her processor. Darkstrike stuttered to say something intelligible.

"Will Megatronus will approve of me?" the femme asked. That was really the least of her problems, but it was the first question that came to mind.

"He will be grateful for another strong speaker, such as yourself. Any new recruits are welcomed." the blue mech said, "In fact, he has already recruited another Cybertronian, Soundwave I think his name was."

It took a few kliks for Darkstrike to fully process his statement. The flier appreciated his compliment, but as soon as that designation hit her processor, she had visibly froze. Her optics went wide.

"Soundwave...?" she mumbled. Immediately, Orion noticed her change in demeanor.

"Is there something wrong? Do you... know him?" he asked. Darkstrike looked away, shuffling and repeatedly murmuring to herself. Her optics flickered nervously. The mech beside her misinterpreted her reaction as fear.

"Darkstrike?" he questioned. When she didn't respond, his touch feathered over her arm. The femme jumped and flinched back. She noticed the look Orion had given her and Darkstrike began to feel regret.

"I'm sorry," she sighed.

"There is no need to apologize," Orion paused, "Can I ask why his designation invokes this reaction from you?"

"Well," she faltered, "Him and I... don't get along sometimes." That was certainly an understatement.

"Will this become an issue in regards to my proposal?" Orion, his tone slightly faltering.

"_Absolutely not_. I will join you Orion of Iacon." Darkstrike stated.

_I'm not playing your game, Soundwave. _She extended her arm.

He smiled, "Orion Pax will do, if it's all the same to you."

Orion Pax eagerly shook her servo, and the moment was great... until Darkstrike's servo began throbbing at the sudden force. She winced. The blue mech's grin was wiped off when he noticed that her servos were bandaged tightly. The bandages weren't able to conceal the clearly visible energon stains. Orion's brows furrowed as he observed for longer.

"Have you seen a medic lately? While your wounds don't look grave, it seems that you are in pain." he said, his servos gently holding hers for a better inspection. Darkstrike snatched her servos back.

"Your neck cables also seem to be wounded," the high-caste said. A furious blush overcame her. Her servos flew to her neck to cover the marks Soundwave had left her. The flier attempted to hide her embarrassment with a cough.

She composed herself. "I'm not about to waste my credits on that inept medic. The pain will subside, it's barely a scratch." she brushed it off.

"The work done is a bit rudimentary—"

The Gladiator femme sighed, "I know. Unfortunately, it's all I have. I'd rather not complain." Darkstrike rather tensely decided to remain against the wall. Darkstrike hadn't known Orion for long, but she had a feeling that he would attempt to bring the subject up again. The dark-armored femme slightly panicked as she searched for something to say, whether their previous topic, or something as bland as a name.

"Orion Pax?" the flier blurted out, "Is that your full designation?" It wasn't as convincing as she would have liked it to be. The mech was vaguely aware that she was attempting to change the topic.

He knew Gladiators injured themselves often; Orion had read about it on his spare time. Not only that, but Megatronus seemed to sport a new scar every time they encountered. He oftentimes had to force the mech to tend to his wounds, but then again, there really was no forcing large warriors with weapons at their disposal. The blue mech had realized that attaining injuries was such a commonality there, that they were often ignored or disregarded as unimportant.

Perhaps it was because Darkstrike had a little more sense than his comrade Megatronus, and a little less of a stubborn attitude, that he had attempted to persuade her. But seeing as his words had little effect, he gave it a rest.

"That is correct, Darkstrike of Kaon." Orion said it to lighten the mood, and maybe alleviate the tense mood. He enjoyed conversation, and he wished that it didn't have to end there. The mech didn't interact with many bots besides with Megatronus, and he found this other company refreshing.

The femme gave him a half-hearted smile, "Darkstrike of Kaon? I like it." her servos ghosted over the necklace he have given her.

* * *

_Unbeknownst to Darkstrike, she had disobeyed the two demands Soundwave had given her. _

_Do not interact with Orion. _

_Do not share information. _


End file.
